The end is where we start from, part 3 of 3
by finnhere2
Summary: How do you fight an enemy within? Thank you, Angelfish, for allowing me to momentarily borrow Larry and al. from your own fantastic story. 7/24 mild editing done in some chapters to make them read easier.
1. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

They had agreed that Duncan would come to the hotel at ten. The Controller had decided to allow himself a longer sleep, and also he knew that it was better to wait until the morning rounds before contacting the hospitals. That was all right for Duncan, as he also had promised to call the vet-station.

Duncan was waiting downstairs in the lobby, reading the morning paper when the older Scot arrived, and got on his feet immediately. "Good morning, sir. You seem to be feeling better. I take it that there have been no setbacks with the agents then?"

Mr Cowley was again astonished for the extremely quick perception the young man showed. "Good morning, Lennox. Aye, no setbacks. They had just finished Doyle's operation, and he wasn't yet awake but the surgeon didn't sound too unhappy. They have removed the pressure against his spinal cord, and stabilized the spine. And Bodie has been awake on and off this morning, and had appeared quite lucid. They said it's all right to go see him. What about the smallest patient?"

Lennox frowned. "Not quite as good, I'm afraid, sir. They were not sure if they could save the leg. It's very badly fractured, and also the kitty is so young and small that it makes the operation even trickier. Besides, he refuses to eat and drink so they have needed to rehydrate him by injections. And the vets at the station are arguing whether to try to save the leg, or amputate it, or put the little one down. I told them that they are to do nothing before I call them again."

The Scot sighed. "Dammit. Well, we talk with Bodie if he's perky enough. He is very fond of the kitten. But we'd better get going so that we catch the doctor." Duncan nodded and they were on their way towards the main entrance.

* * *

Duncan went to see his grandfather while mr Cowley waited to talk with the neurosurgeon who had met Bodie in the morning. The 20 minute wait felt at least two times longer, but when the doctor arrived, mr Cowley was happy to hear that Bodie would probably be moved to an ordinary room later during the day, and after a few days, if all went well, he could be moved to London. He knew his agent well enough to know that worry for Doyle wouldn't really subside before Bodie was nearer to his mate, and the same went with Doyle.

Bodie's head was in heavy bandages when the Scot entered his room, his arm was in a sling, and the agent was sleeping. The monitors beeped around him, and the bruises on his face looked even more striking than before, against the white pillow and bandages, and it would take a while before the hair would grow back. Mr Cowley couldn't see if they had shaved the whole head or only around the wound, anyway the agent would look quite funny for a while. The Scot sighed again. The surgeon had said that what came to the head, Bodie could be in working condition in a few weeks, but there was now also the matter of the shoulder. But anyway, if Bodie recuperated decently from the head operation, the orthopedics would have a look at the shoulder in a couple of days and then they would be wiser. No use worrying before that. Or rather, no use worrying about _that_. There was enough to worry about as it was already.

Like, what he would do about Doyle. The neurosurgeon he had talked with at NHNN was quite confident Doyle would eventually be able to walk if there came no complications, but even that would take physiotherapy and weeks of sick leave. Would he have use for an agent not able to return to the field, and even if he had, would Doyle agree to join the "penpushers" he despised? He had been a good policeman, and despite his flaws, a very good agent, and it would be a shame to throw that experience away. But knowing Doyle's temper, his chief wondered whether it only would be torture to the agent, and everyone around him.

But there would be time to talk with Doyle about it. Och... and with Bodie. If Doyle wouldn't be able to return to the field, what the hell would he do about Bodie if his shoulder would allow him to return to field duty? Bodie was ambidextrous so his chances were decent even if the other shoulder would need some operation. But to find him a new partner... good lord. That would be a project indeed, even if Bodie had mellowed.

Maybe he should start thinking about the future on a larger scale.

He sat down and let the agent sleep, there was no hurry as Lennox would anyway come to join them. For goodness' sake, Bodie had to be exhausted, after all that had happened and all he had done, and to top that, his skull had been opened. Even if they had considered it to be quite a routine operation, which it probably was in modern days, still the thought of somebody poking at somebody else's brain felt sickening. He hadn't asked whether there would be pains or headaches, but maybe he could trust them to keep Bodie – aye, both lads - relatively painless. He probably could fly to London this evening, and maybe could meet Doyle already in the evening, or then tomorrow morning. He should ask the hospitals whether it would be all right for the lads to have bedside telephones, so that they could talk with each other, when and if they were in condition to speak or listen. The two wouldn't be driving everybody around them crazy if they could keep each other up to date on what was happening and how they were doing. Once Doyle got his head clear, he most probably would be a pain in everyone's flesh anyway.

And he could hardly be blamed for that.

And then there also was the matter of the little cat. Georgie... The old Scot couldn't help a little smile. Och those two... damned busters. But something had to be done about the kitten too... and the Controller stayed in his thoughts until he heard Bodie wail softly in his dream.

"It's all right, lad... everything will be all right..." he spoke softly, until the agent calmed down in his sleep again. And neither of them knew about the pair of grey thoughtful eyes which quietly watched them through a corridor window for a long while, before PC Lennox finally decided to enter the room.

* * *

A few minutes later a nurse popped in. "Everything all right in here?" She went to check the drips and had a look at the monitors.

"He did wail a little in his sleep, maybe he should have a wee bit more painkillers?"

The nurse frowned a little. "That is something I need to talk about with the head nurse. His dose is quite heavy already. But maybe he simply had a nightmare. It's best to look at the matter when he wakes up again."

And although they had spoken quietly, when the nurse was out from the door, as if on cue Bodie started to stir and move restlessly. "Easy lad, take it easy... nothing to worry about. Easy now, Bodie. Stay put, lad." The older Scot had stood up and he held gently but firmly Bodie's arms so that he couldn't accidentally pull out the IV.

"Sir?" The agent fought his eye open.

"Aye, lad. And young Duncan is here too. We came to see how you are doing."

Duncan, again startled by the use of his first name, moved their chairs to the bedside and they both sat down when Bodie was well awake. "Good morning, agent Bodie. Still feeling groggy?"

The agent managed something that did sound like _yeah_.

"Me mom, she used to be that the first whole day after any op they did to her. You do look perkier. But then again, you are like four times her size."

Bodie managed to turn his head a little to try and focus on Duncan. "Well you're the biggest half-midget I've ever seen." His voice was hoarse, but yes, the corner of his mouth did make a little move upwards and Duncan smiled back at him and winked an eye.

"Too bad that the inside of me skull hasn't grown in same proportions, at least that's what everybody keeps telling me."

The Controller felt extremely relieved to hear what resembled a chuckle. At least Bodie's head's inside seemed to be working, and Controller's fondness for the young Aberdeen copper only grew.

"Now, Bodie, are you otherwise comfortable? Are you having pains?"

Bodie had closed his eyes again and seemed to be very uncomfortable. "Dunno... feeling weird... sick... or something." Duncan was on his feet instantly and out of the door to fetch a nurse.

"How's Ray?" Bodie again had forced his one eye open, the other one being swollen nearly closed.

"I called the hospital in the morning, they had just finished his operation so he was still not awake. So far so good, and the surgeon seemed to think that if everything goes as he expects, Doyle should get back on his feet after rehabilitation."

Bodie's face was very serious. "On his feet... but will he make it to the field?"

The Controller sighed. "Lad, it's far too early to tell, you know that just as well as I do. Try to not worry too much about that yet. It will be a long road for him even to get back walking, you know that. But all we can do is to wait and take a day at the time, and try to keep his spirits up so that he'll make through the rehabilitation."

Bodie sighed. "Yeah, even if he gets back walking, that's bloody marvellous." Bodie closed his eye again, looking more peaceful.

"Did you talk there at the house, you and Doyle? I mean, did you talk about the... damage?" For a moment the Controller wondered if Bodie had fallen asleep again.

"Yeah... we did. About that and other things." But before Bodie got to continue, Duncan returned with the nurse.

She started to check on the patient, quickly testing his responses to both mental and physical stimulation, writing everything down. "Are you in pain, mister Bodie? I can now give you a little more for the pain, but that would maybe make you feel more groggy and disoriented."

Bodie frowned. "I can manage. Don't want to feel any sicker."

The nurse looked thoughtful, giving him a long pondering glance. "Just don't be a macho then, and do ask for more if you start to hurt more. Do you need water or anything else?"

Bodie moistened his lip instinctively. "My mouth is dry, yeah."

The nurse fetched a glass, and when she returned and started to lift the end of the bed, Duncan carefully lifted and supported Bodie's upper body as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. The nurse arranged the pillows and gave Duncan a grateful smile before leaving the room.

"Now listen Duncan, she's mine. Comes with the pills as Ray would say." Bodie had noticed the smile.

"Sorry Bodie, you'll be soon off to the ward and get new ones. Here, let me... take just a little at the time. Whoa, enough for now..." Duncan secured the glass when Bodie took greedy swallows through a straw. "More in a few minutes. Better first make sure it stays inside you." He seemed to be very experienced in taking care of patients, both mr Cowley and Bodie thought.

"Oi Duncan, how's Georgie? They have treated his leg, right? And he's gonna be fine?"

Duncan exchanged a quick look with the Controller. "Och, aye, well, Bodie, they haven't yet decided what to do. We meant to talk with you about it so that I can let them know your opinion."

Bodie swallowed and stared at Duncan. "My opinion, opinion on _what_?"

The Controller quickly patted his shoulder. "Bodie, they only want to know what they should do with the leg. You know already that the leg is very bad, and as he's so tiny it will be very tricky to try and set the bones. Also the operation itself is risky as he's so young and they need to be very careful with anaesthesia. So they need to know, whether they try to save the leg, or take it away?" Duncan noticed that the older man had conveniently forgotten the third alternative. "You know, Bodie, cats do well with three legs. Even if he survived the operation to set the bones, they can't promise it would heal perfectly. And as said, it's somewhat risky to even sedate him."

Bodie closed his eye again and thought for a moment. "Well they have to do something anyway, don't they? I don't know about cats. Can you talk with the vet, sir? I want Georgie to be happy and I trust you to be able to tell what is best for him."

The Controller definitely didn't need anything more on his mind, but he didn't have the heart to say that to Bodie – not now, not when the man was at the ITU still. "All right, we go there once we are out from here. I talk with the vets. By the way, the little villain refuses to eat there. Looks like he's not happy with the service there and prefers your pampering."

Bodie gave a shy little grin.

Duncan got an idea. "Sir, what if we take there some piece of clothing with Bodie's scent in it? Maybe that would make him feel a bit better. Shirt or vest or something?" Bodie agreed immediately. "I go and ask the nurses about Bodie's clothes and then go wait for you in the main lobby, sir. I'm sure you want to talk with mr Bodie in peace." He said goodbye to Bodie and left the room.

The two CI5s talked for a while about Bodie's condition and situation and the agent seemed to relax when things started to settle in his mind and his practical side took over.

Mr Cowley offered him more water. "You're in good hands here, lad, and things seem to be under control. I thought that I could leave for London today. I might be able to visit Doyle's hospital this evening, or tomorrow morning, if I catch some convenient flight."

Bodie looked delighted even under his bruises and swelling. "That would be great, sir. Don't let me hold you up then, so that you have time to see Georgie too before you leave. But could you only arrange that I would get news from Ray and Georgie until I get the hell out of here?"

The Scot patted Bodie's shoulder again. "Aye, I'm sure I manage to arrange that. I suppose Lennox is on sick-leave for a couple of days more, and his grandfather is in this same hospital, so he maybe doesn't mind if he comes to update you on the kitten when he visits his grandfather. And you'll hear of Doyle also, unless I manage to arrange something else between the two of you." After a few minutes he took his leave, and Bodie, his mind at ease, fell asleep again.


	2. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"Ach, you can't be serious! Surely there is _something_ you could do here!"

The Controller was getting annoyed. Visit to behind the window of the room where Kennedy was kept had been depressing. The man had slid into deep unconsciousness, and all they could do was to wait and tend to the burns, wounds and broken bones the torturer had caused him, and try to keep him stable. At least he wouldn't probably feel pain, and hopefully he wouldn't dream either. Or if he did, hopefully it would be of something else than the happenings of the last days...

And now this.

The short, middle-aged veterinarian was spreading his hands. "I'm sorry, mister Cowley, but we simply do not have the _means_ to operate on him safely. We have been talking about this the whole morning between ourselves, but the fact is that he is too small and too young for us. To try and repair that leg would take hours of work and we would probably kill him in the process anyway. To amputate _could_ be a little less risky. And I know that you would get the same reply from every veterinarian in this city. If he was a few weeks older it would be a different matter. But he's maybe 6 or 7 weeks old and tiny and malnourished for that. We do not have a), a safe way to anaestethise him for hours, b), pins small enough to try and fix the fragments of bone with, and c), not really even a safe analgesic."

The Scot bounced on his feet. "I do not have time or energy for this, doctor. I have two men at the hospital here, one who won't leave the intensive care for weeks I suppose, if he even regains consciousness, and another whose damn _skull_ was opened last night. And another in London with his spinal cord opened. And one soon to be buried here. This has definitely not been one of my best weeks. And now you are saying you can't fix some bloody broken bones?" His frustration was getting the better of him. "Bloody hell, there has to be some solution. I want to fly to London today."

The veterinarian leaned back in his chair. "Well that is the solution if you don't want to have him put down or amputated. Take the kitten with you. I can contact the RVC in London for you, The Royal Veterinary College. We can rehydrate him more, he manages the journey with a splint if he stays put, and give a tiny dose of sedative to calm him a little before the flight. I'm sure that with your authority you get permission to take him to the cabin without problems. It's not that long a flight."

"I'm not any damned cat-courier!" The Controller definitely sounded more like a growling dog.

Duncan coughed, a little embarrassed. "Why not first go see the kitty? You know, you could... well, kind of, err... estimate what he would look like without the leg. Or something."

The relieved veterinarian was already on his feet and the two men had no other chance than to follow him. "This way, gentlemen."

* * *

On their way to the back room they learned that Georgie had been a less than perfect patient and nobody handled him without gloves. Tiny as his teeth and claws were, he used them with great enthusiasm. He didn't appear to be so much afraid than simply acting up, and none of the nurses had got him eat or drink after they had managed to get his leg x-rayed under slight sedation, so they had needed to give him fluids again. Duncan had given a vet nurse Bodie's dirty pullover already when they had come in, and they actually found the kitten snuggled under it. Georgie's cage was on the top row and there were dogs of all sorts, and a couple of cats under and both sides of him, and when an arm stretched to open the door of the cage, he already started to hiss and growl.

"Och be quiet now, dummy." The old Scot had gestured the vet to step aside. "Don't you start at me. I do not take stupidities." He grabbed the kitten inside the pullover and calmly took him out from the cage as he had seen a new splint. "The trick, doctor, is diversion. Use one hand as decoy and grab with the other. That applies also to police-work, Lennox." Mr Cowley had opened his coat and secured the kitten against his chest, also offering for sniffing the hand he had touched Bodie with. He didn't know if the kitten would remember him from his scent, or how it would react even if it did, but there was no harm in trying. "Rugged little skinny creature... You've been a naughty lad. Stop biting people, eh? Use your energy to heal and stop being silly. One Doyle is enough." He spoke to the kitten quietly, as he had done at the house, and after a moment he felt a slight push against the hand he had offered for checking. "My lads want you to grow up to a big bulky tomcat with a harem of a hundred and that won't happen unless you behave." Georgie purred apologetically and gnawed gently at his finger, rubbing his face against the hand.

"Och dear... What are we to do with you, laddie?"

The Scot lifted the kitten back inside his cage, where it sat sloping, still rubbing his hand and purring. He noticed a little bowl with fresh catfood, and the tabby contently ate litte bits he offered from his fingers. "Well as you can behave, why not behaving also for the good doctors? Hm?" The cat would do well with three legs. That maybe was the best solution. The lads wouldn't like it, but... The kitten had fallen on his side, and held his hand gently with his one paw, purring and licking his hand. He pulled his hand away quietly and closed the door of the cage, turning away. "Come on Lennox, let's find that veterinarian again." On their way to the door, he heard inquiring little meows which turned into alarmed.

The Scot sighed and halted at the door. "Wait a moment, Lennox." He turned back and took his gloves out of his pockets, and walked to the cage, opening the door. "Here you are." His leather gloves were placed beside Bodie's pullover. "And don't rip them in the meanwhile. I want them to be usable when I come back."

Duncan was becoming quite good in hiding his smiles.


	3. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

He was in a plane, faces floating around him. In a plane.

The Scottish doctor had a brown face and he talked like an Indian. No Bodie in sight.

He couldn't move. And the pain shot right through him, making him whimper.

_Mr Doyle, There's nothing to worry about. You have been stabilized to hinder you from moving. Can you move your toes for me, mr Doyle?_ Talk talk talk, they had forgotten Georgie into the car and Ray was burning. _Mr Doyle, please, can you move your toes for me?_ How the fuck could he move his toes burning in the river? He proved he couldn't move them. _Ah... as if I saw something. Mr Doyle, mr Doyle, hello, I'm doctor..._ but Ray only heard his own wail. _Nothing to worry about, mr Doyle. You are getting more morphine, a couple of minutes only and... _

Ray was already sliding back into cabin. Bodie was there.

* * *

In and out, in and out. Faces emerged when he hurt too much to breathe and there was talk about toes. He was in the car, he was in the chopper, he was in the barrow but Bodie wasn't there. He needed to tell Bodie. About... toes. It didn't make sense. Georgie needed his toes but why were they talking to him about it? He would bloody show some toes. But he needed to find Bodie. He needed to have a pee. "Bodie... I need cath... catheter... someone tell Bodie..." Whispers around him. _Who is Bodie? Not from this hospital. But give the shot now_.

An elderly woman's face floated close. _Now, Mr Doyle, close your eyes. Close your eyes for me, will you? Bodie is waiting. Close your eyes and Bodie is there._ That didn't make sense. _Close your eyes, Bodie is ready waiting. Just let go..._ Ah, of course, he's still in the cabin. There are others too, whispering, but they keep out of sight. Good. No need for audience. _Yes it looks it's functioning. He doesn't feel the tube but he felt the bladder. Or then he's still back there_.

Better there than here.

* * *

In and out... from weird visions to burning which made him wail. Light had changed and some part of his mind said it must be evening. Faces kept floating but he didn't recognize any of them, or the voices. He couldn't move, he must have been paralysed totally, but if he was, why did he hurt so much? The elderly woman came again, talked something and left.

"Nurse?" Some image started to come clearer. Plane, ambulance, doors. The woman returned to sight. "Is this London?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, mr Doyle. You're in London."

Pain made him whimper again. "Why... I burn?"

The woman was wiping his brow. "We've just administered more morphine, mr Doyle. Your spine has been operated, that's why you hurt. We try to keep you as comfortable as possible, but at times the influence wears off. Only a moment, mr Doyle, and you'll be more comfortable again. We got a phonecall, mr Doyle. They asked us to tell you, that mr Bodie has been in surgery last night and everything looks fine with him. But try and breathe now, only a moment..."

She stayed with him until he slid off again.

Bodie.

* * *

There were voices again. Voices without faces. Darkness, of course, those voices were outside the cabin. _He's not completely lucid, it's the morphine. But when he comes better around, he knows where he is. Unfortunately also he hurts then. This worst phase is maybe two-three days, we keep him under as well as we can with morphine and other heavy medication but we have to allow him wake up every now and then, to be able to monitor his neurological status._ A quiet voice. _Don't be alarmed, that is only to keep the spine immobilized. For the first couple of weeks. Standard procedure. Looks ghastly but really a standard procedure in these operations._

That quiet voice again... he knew that voice. He forced his eyes open.

"Sir?"

_Only a few minutes, please. You are already past the visiting hours._

"Yes yes, I understand that, doctor."

He knew the face which came to view. "Hello Doyle."

He had to close his eyes for a moment. "I burn sometimes, sir." There was a hand on his brow.

_It's the pain, probably._

"Ach, yes, he's only mildly warm. You can go now, doctor."

"What are they going to do to you, sir?"

The Controller blinked a couple of times. Doyle was really incoherent. "Do to me? What do you mean?"

Ray tried to focus. "But this is a hospital, innit?"

The Scot got it. "Och... aye, this is a hospital. But they are not going to do anything to me. At least I certainly hope so. I only came to see how you are doing, Doyle."

A blink of understanding.

"I can't... move."

The older man sighed. "They have put you into a kind of... well, cast. Half-cast. Sort of. That is why you can't move, Doyle. They don't want you to move for a while."

Ray forced his eyes open again. The face was still with the voice. "Nurse... something about Bodie. She said." It was so hard to concentrate.

"Bodie is doing fine, Doyle. He has a turban, very handsome with his black and blue face. They fixed his head, there's nothing to worry about it now."

Image of Bodie and turban made Ray frown. "Why turban? He's not going to Asia?"

The Controller chuckled. "Ach... no, he's not going to Asia. He has a bandage round his head. He will stay in the hospital in Aberdeen for a few days more, and then he comes to London. I arrange him to see you then."

Ray shut his eyes again to concentrate. "What..." He frowned, when the thought slipped from his grasp. "Everything _floats_, sir." His expression was apologetic.

"It's all right, sonny. It is all right. It's the drugs they give you to keep you from hurting too much. Don't worry, lad, a few bad days and then it starts to get less bad. Everything is going to be just fine, eventually...", the Scot sighed, "some day."

Ray remembered now. "What about Georgie? He needs his toes." The burning was returning.

"He is keeping his toes if all goes well, along with the rest of his extremities. He is in London, actually. At the posh Royal Veterinary College. I brought him to London with me because the vets up there were not able to treat him. His leg is a bit of an jigsaw puzzle, and the vets are putting it together as we speak."

Doyle was starting to breathe shallower, and mr Cowley frowned seeing that.

"Now, lad, don't you worry. Bodie is going to be fine, and I arrange him here as soon as possible, and Geo... the kitten is going to be just fine he too. Now you try to relax, sonny, just relax... things are going to be fine for you too." The Scot found the call button and pressed it, moving aside to let the nurse take care of Doyle, and waited at the bedside until his pained agent had calmed down to sleep again, before he himself finally headed towards his own apartment for the night.

* * *

He couldn't tell the time. He was in and out of the cabin, where Bodie was, and in and out with the floating faces. He didn't know what he wanted more, to be away facing his strange and often scary dreams, or to be lucid, but hurting like he had a pyre inside of himself. But the moments between the worst incoherece and the pyre were gradually becoming longer, maybe not minute by minute but at least second by second, and he started to sometimes recognize some faces and voices; the Indian-looking doctor whose name was something unintelligible, an older grey-haired, Asian-looking doctor, the nurse who reminded him of Mary Poppins, and the older nurse who talked to him. To see any of those faces was a relief as it meant that the burn would soon subside. And... Larry?

"How... "

The old man smiled – feebly, but nevertheless. Despite his own experiences, seeing Ray this way had shocked him. "Hello Ray. You know, I really would appreciate if you would try to keep out of these places."

Ray tried to focus. "How are you here?" He still wasn't sure if he was dreaming or awake.

"Well, I got a phonecall from a young man who had a most hilarious Scottish accent, he called on behalf of Bodie. I have nothing but time nowadays, so I thought I might come and read my paper here just as well, your chief arranged me the permission to come here. Nurses told me to call them when your medication starts to wear off. And that young Highland lad asked me to tell you that Bodie is doing fine, and is starting gradually to annoy the doctors, which is always a good sign. But now, as you probably are in no mood for longer chats, do I start from politics, economy or sports, or boringly from the front page?"

They settled for the front page, and actually they reached page three before the old gardener needed to call in a nurse for another shot. And when Ray went under again, he was having a dispute with Bodie about their bill on ban on firearms in the House of Commons.


	4. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Buzz. Ach, it was Betty, of course. George Cowley had been so deep in his thoughts, wrestling with cares of the day, that it took a moment before he remembered his trusted secretary. Mr Cowley pressed the button. "Sir, a Harold Jackson on line two. He says he calls from something called RVC?" Betty sounded baffled.

"Och, aye, aye. Put him through, thank you. And when Jax arrives, ask him to wait there until I've finished with Jackson, Jax should be here any minute." He checked the time. "And please make a call to Aberdeen and ask for an update on Bodie and Kennedy. You might get a doctor on line if you do it now, or ask them to call back if you don't get a hold on anyone. I'll be damned occupied until the bloody afternoon."

He cut the connection and picked up the veterinarian. "Yes it's George Cowley here. Any luck with that jigsaw puzzle?" Mr Cowley sighed of relief hearing that the kitten had survived the operation, although barely; he had already tried to bite a nurse though, so he hadn't lost his spirit. And nobody was allowed to take away the gloves or the pullover. "Then let him have those, for goodness' sake."

After the phonecall the Contoller sat a moment rubbing his brow. Bloody hell. When things finally started to get on track, he would use two days for sleeping. Or three. The past week already felt like a year, and he couldn't still breathe freely unless at least some of these patients would get on their feet. Now there was a knock on the door and Jax peeked in. "Right, come in, come in, and close the door, will you. Bloody mess we're in, Jax..." and the two de-briefed each other on the latest happenings and started to plan the nearest future.

* * *

There was knock also on Bodie's room's door. Duncan peeked in. "Good morning, Bodie. Now, the bloody irritating _how are we doing today_?"

Bodie grimaced. "If you ever ask me that again, I'll kick your arse when I get up from here."

Duncan grinned. "That already sounds promising. Now, first things first, eh? Yesterday evening I got hold on that Larry you talked about, and he promised he'll start seeing Ray as soon as he gets the permission from the medics. Your chief called late last night, and when I told him about Larry, he said he'll call the hospital first thing this morning to try and arrange that. And when Ray starts to be in a chatting condition he tries to arrange you get to talk with him. Mr Cowley had been in the hospital yesterday evening and he said that the doctors were still happy with the operation, but they try to keep Ray under heavy sedation for most of the time as they had removed the bits of broken... eh, whatsit, discs, and he has metal plates and screws stabilizing his spine. That did sound bloody awful, especially as they had put some kind of thingie around the man to keep him totally immobilized for the first couple of weeks. Anyway, mr Cowley had talked a little with Ray, and said that he had been quite incoherent at first, but once his head had cleared out a bit he had been asking about you and Georgie. Oh and Georgie, he has been operated now. Mr Cowley didn't yet know the outcome yesterday but will let you know as soon as possible. Actually, Georgie is also in London. The vets here chickened out as they thought they would pretty much kill the little beast, who had been biting and scraping them, but your chief took him to London with him as they thought the Royal Veterinary College could succeed with the leg."

After his report, the young Scot sat down. The dark-haired agent looked dark indeed, and Duncan couldn't blame him. He know the man was more worried over his buddy than about himself. "Try not to worry, Bodie. I have a good feeling about this. I mean, I am positive you all will pull through and even Ray will get well back on his feet again. It will take him hell of a lot of guts and stamina, but he has that all right. As do you. And you can loan him some once you get there."

Bodie carefully turned his head to look at the lad. "You're a positive one, aren't you?"

Duncan shrugged and turned his face away for a moment. "Not really. Not about everything." He looked back at Bodie. "But about this I'm sure." He tilted his head. "Hey, the swelling seems to be disappearing. You might even be able to open your other eye tomorrow. Now, I thought I could use a couple of hours with you before going to see that other agent, Kennedy, took a couple of books with me, I can read you if you want. _Descent from Xanadu_ by Harold Robbins, or _Teheran_ by Ken Follett?"

Bodie had to smile. "Robbins of course. But how's your grandfather doing?" He listened for a while to a merry narrative on the old man's effort to drive his doctors crazy. Good lad, this youngster. Made you relax. Hopefully Larry would get through to Ray the same way...

Bodie tried to breathe away his anxiety. Ray was recuperating. Ray was _safe_. And one of these days he would be there to see that for himself.

He needed to get there.


	5. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

_Mr Doyle?_ It was the talking nurse floating in. _Hello mr Doyle. Would you please move your toes for me?_ He still couldn't understand why... the face floated again towards him, smiling. _Well done, mr Doyle. Well done! Now, if all goes well, tomorrow we will start weaning you from morphine. And you will start feeling more normal._ What was that, normal? What was it to feel normal? And what was well done? He hadn't had a steak for ages, didn't they know that?

But a little voice in his mind said that he had been told something good. That something was... good. God how hard it was to concentrate. Had Larry been here today? He remembered Larry talking about box plants. But was it today or last... year?

Ray forced himself to focus on the face and make it stay put and stop floating for a moment.

"Tomorrow?" He didn't recognize his own voice.

The face smiled again.

"What is your name?" Faces needed names.

"Martha. Martha Newton. Like gravity." Funny enough, that made it perfectly clear. "And yes, it is three days from your operation and the doctors think tomorrow we could start let you be more awake."

He knew it was good news, but also it frightened him.

The nurse saw and understood the change in his eyes. She sat beside her and touched his hand. "Don't worry, mr Doyle. The healing in your back is starting and so far everything has gone just fine. When we quit with your morphine, there may be a couple of worse days, but from that on the plan is, that every day is less bad than the day before, and your head will be clearer. Do you understand what I am telling you, mr Doyle?"

It was different from the same question in an interrogation room. Or when he had shouted at mister Cowley. Ray blinked a couple of times. "You ask it nicely."

The nurse was a little baffled.

"When I ask it I shout. Most often."

Nurse Newton frowned a little, then rshe emembered the man was said to be a police of some kind and undertood what the patient was referring to. "Oh. Shouting is not allowed here. Unfortunately. But did you understand what I was telling you?"

Ray had to think, to remember. "Yes. You start to clear my head. And I may hurt. More. But it will be all right, won't it? Later?"

Fear had returned to his eyes and the nurse took a good grip on his hand. "It will be all right, mr Doyle. Believe me, I know. And do you know why I know?"

She was smiling again and Ray thought that she had a young smile. "Tell me."

Her smile got broader. "Because, mr Doyle, I just saw your toes stir. Wiggle, mr Doyle. Your toes move well and proper." Martha started to wipe his bare skin clean, taking her time with it, and finished it by drying the patient's face.

* * *

When she, a few minutes later, in the corridor saw the older man she knew to be mr Doyle's boss, she took him aside to a quiet corner. Doyle would maybe have said that his smile was young too. At least it was definitely extremely relieved - and a moment later, embarrassed, as there was a little move under his long coat and the nurse's eyes narrowed. But when she had a peek and listened to short whispered explanations given with remarkably pleading eyes, she sighed and shook her head. "Fifteen minutes. No more than that, as he is going to need his next shot soon and there will be others in the room also that time."

A minute later a thin and fragile-looking tiny tabby with a splint and partially shaven hair, pushed, purring, his head against Ray Doyle's chin.

* * *

And two hours later in Aberdeen, a young PC remembered he had forgotten his books in his car after telling the agent the latest news from London, and he took his time fetching the books. Duncan felt like smiling at the whole world, although he understood that the agent he left his head turned away and eyes tightly squeezed shut, might need a minute before he would manage that.

* * *

At the same time back in London, two very serious pairs of eyes were watching each other; one pair of blue sitting on a chair, the other, gray-golden, on the kitchen table, noses only a few inches apart.

"One: I do not take _any_ of that not-eating-business. Two: Stick to litter-boxes. Three: My pillow is mine, not yours. Four: You bite and scratch only people I don't like. Five:Tables are restricted area unless I lift you. Is that clear?" The tabby blinked and licked his lips. "So you agree at least with number one. That's a start. And your name here is Churchill. I'm not going to start talking to myself." The Scot suddenly realised what he had said and bursted out laughing. "Oh Lord Almighty, those two drive me crazy... as do you, eh little one?" He stretched his hand and the kitten started to purr and brush his face against it, gnawing and licking gently his fingers. "If you are a good wee lad and eat now a little, there may be grounds to negotiating about that pillow later."

The kitten who hurt but felt safe nevertheless, rose swaying on his feet to greet the saucer coming towards him.


	6. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Dr Hammond was looking content. There was some weakness in Bodie's hands, but that could of course also be due to the man's other injuries. The patient was able to walk short distances almost without support, his pupils reacted normally to light in both his eyes, he didn't seem to have any problems with his vision, and claimed his senses functioned normally and his headache was staying tolerable. Heart-rate had returned to almost normal, bloodpressure still was a little low. Right.

"Now, Mr Bodie, you will be taken to new scans later today. If they show no new signs of the bleeding, and show healing has started, and, if your wound looks neat and the blood-tests show no major problems in your kidneys and liver, we can start planning your move to London tomorrow or the day after. So you'd better stay put and do exactly as you're told, so that nobody gets excited. Head nurse Morris does not like being called _birdie_, by the way. You'd better stop doing that in case she decides to put something intraceable into your meal to keep you here a little longer."

Somehow Bodie was not able to decide whether the man was serious or joking. These Scots seemed to be a race of their own... well, he should have known that already. "Can I fly already?"

The neurosurgeon shook his head. "Better safe than sorry, we arrange your move by an ambulance. It takes a few hours longer, but there's no need to worry about the changes in pressure. There is another patient of ours in London who can be transferred here in a day or two so she'll be stepping in from London then. Anyway, so far so good. The nurse will come to tell you when you get to be scanned. And please _do_ try to behave a little longer? _**I **_need to live with these people, you know." The doctor got on his feet to leave and again Bodie didn't know whether the man was joking or not.

But better safe than sorry as the doc had said, it would be only a day or two now, he would survive... Gosh, that reminded him. "Doctor... do you know how agent Kennedy is doing? I know he had been unconscious still yesterday. Is there any hope for him?"

The neurosurgeon stopped. "I saw him this morning, it looks like he has surfaced a little. But there's nothing else I can say before he regains consciousness - _if_ he does that. I'm sorry, but so it is. Anyway, if anything drastic happens, you'll be told." He raised his hand to greeting and vanished from the door, leaving Bodie wondering about life and luck, and trying to rein his impatience.

* * *

"Oi, Ray... don't you worry. These people know what they are doing." Larry's voice was calming. "They won't stop giving you the morphine and leave you there. You know that, don't you? They only start to wean you out little by little. And you haven't been using it too long." Lucidity could be a problem in itself, especially for someone who had dealt with drugs and seen dozens, hundreds of junkies from all levels of society. "And they will use other medicine to keep the pain away."

Ray had been told that all already – had he? Somewhere between floating faces. But Larry's voice was different. He had heard it before. It was like a mooring post. "Georgie was here last year... no... last..."

Larry was perplexed. "Who?"

Ray tried to concentrate. "Georgie. They had fixed his front paw."

One of the older nurses popped in and smiled at Larry before turning her attention to Ray. "Hello again mr Doyle. Is Georgie the little kitten I saw yesterday?"

She floated close enough for Ray to recognize and remember. "Martha." He tried to smile. "Bodie made the first splint to Georgie. Cardboard. Duct tape. And Bodie... Bodie did..." the line of thought vanished.

"Bodie is his partner at work. He had been in the same accident." Larry enlightened the nurse.

"Oh, now I understand. This Bodie had taken care of mr Doyle before they had been taken to hospital?"

Larry nodded. "From the evening of the accident to the afternoon of the next day as they hadn't been able to call for help, that's what I was told. Bodie had moved Ray out from their car and into a cottage, managed to keep him immobilized, medicated him and so forth."

Ray remembered again. "Bodie used the catheter. And kept me warm."

The nurse smiled, hearing the pride in her patient's voice. "Well it will be interesting to meet him. He will certainly come to meet you, mr Doyle."

Ray chuckled. "He has a turban."

That made the nurse blink. "A what?"

Larry understood. "Oh, Ray probably means that his head is bandaged. Bodie is in hospital in Aberdeen, he had had a haemorrhage in his brain, I suppose, and they operated him there."

The nurse shook her head but smiled. "Unlucky men these, eh?"

Larry returned the smile. "Unlucky or lucky, many others would have died at their place, looks like."

Ray tried again get a grip of his thoughts. "Morphine?"

The nurse sighed. "Yes mr Doyle, what about it?" The man didn't look too pained to her.

"Oh Ray worries about it. He told me once he had worked in drug-squad so he maybe has seen too much."

Ray was thankful, Larry had said it to the point. It was so hard to keep his head together.

The nurse took his hand again. "Mr Doyle, do you remember what we talked about it earlier? You do not need to worry. We will look after you. We only give you a little less of it during the day, and you get other medication to take care of the pain. Do you remember?"

Her hand was reassuring.

"Little by me mr Doyle, everything will be all right."

Ray squeezed her fingers. "All right."

The nurse smiled at him another young smile. "Now, give me a good start to my shift and move your toes for me, mr Doyle."

And again, she saw them twitch, in both feet, and the movement was clearer than the day before, Larry saw that too, and smiled from ear to ear. "Dammit, Ray, your toes really move! I saw them move!"

And somehow, to hear that from Larry, it made Ray smile the broadest smile the nurse had seen. Burning was already just behind the corner, but Ray didn't care. "Read me another page, Larry. Another page before burning."

The nurse looked at the curly-haired man closely. "Right, I will leave you to your paper. Let me know when we're needed." The older man nodded, and the patient blinked. "And mr Doyle. Do. Not. Worry. Remember?" The poor man would have worries enough the coming weeks. And pains.

"I remember, Martha. Something."

The nurse had to smile. "Fair enough. But we talk later. Bye now." When she left the room, Larry was asking if they could move to the sports-pages.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, two Scots were again having a quiet talk. "Stephen did not like your growling and hissing at him. You'd better not do that to Betty tomorrow when she comes to give you your lunch. But at least you had the sense to eat the lunch today. You are a little pest and a bother, aren't you?" The purring bother seemed to sit more stable and the man surprised the tiny animal and quickly pushed the piece of the antibiotic into his throat. Then he quickly offered the kitten his meal, which was heavily frowned upon due to the surprise attack. But hunger won humiliation, and the couple of tea-spoon fulls vanished soon. Mr Cowley would give a little more in the next meal in a couple of hours, no use to upset the kitten's tummy as he also needed the medication.

When the kitten had finished with the saucer, the Controller proved not all men had tubular brain, and while enjoying his own tea, he read papers he had taken with him from the office, and dipped his free hand's forefinger every now and again into a cup of water, letting the kitten drink drop by drop. But as he was deep in his thoughts and the service got half-hearted due to another memo from Home Office, all of a sudden he noticed that the kitten was standing on all three beside the old cup he had chosen for the water, licking the water from the cup all by himself. Smiling he waited until tabby had finished, to not disturb this milestone.

"Good boy, Churchill. You stick to water though, no malt for you." After graciously accepting some stroking and cuddling, the kitten tried to start washing his ears and face and it seemed so tricky the smiling Scot thought the feline had to be originally right-handed... err, -pawed. But he would certainly learn to be ambidextrous after Bodie. Mr Cowley took the pile of papers and the kitten, and moved them to his living-room, deciding to continue reading on a sofa. Half an hour later he had fallen asleep, the kitten curled safely in the perfect space between his neck, shoulder, and the rests of the sofa.


	7. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

His heart was racing. He had needed to negotiate for a quarter of an hour with a nurse to be allowed to get into the other end of the building, the bloody quacks had seen him sway when they tested him in the morning and they had immediately booked some bloody new scans for him. But he had finally been able to talk over the nurse and one of the doctors to let him go see Ray before they would spoil the rest of his day. He had arrived too late the evening before, but had managed to coax one of the nurses to find out more of how Ray was doing, and he had been relieved to know that at least there had been no setbacks during the day although it looked like the weaning off morphine would not be that easy.

"Right, mr Bodie. Not long now." And to be bloody forced to sit in this bloody wheelchair... yet as it had been the ultimatum, he had yielded to it. At least he would rather had had Duncan with him, not this cold bitch for a nurse. Even that Morris-woman in Aberdeen had been somewhat human compared to this ice-berg. Duncan had almost died laughing when escorting Bodie to the ambulance he had heard Bodie say that they should fasten a plate on top of the ward door saying _"This is the realm of the Famous Grouse". _Making sure that the head nurse was within the hearing range, of course.

Good kid, that Duncan. Bodie had been moved when he had realised that the boy also used some time daily with Kennedy, reading to him. When he had asked Duncan about it, the young copper had said that even in coma or unconsciousness people still might hear what was happening around them, and should not be left totally alone. Bodie hadn't ask more, seeing the way the lad had turned his face away for a moment, before straightening up and merrily declaring that he didn't have much else to do anyway because of the bastardly weather keeping him off the cliffs, and because his Gramp still was in the same hospital it was no trouble at all to extend the visits. Yeah, and Bodie had to admit the Robbins-book would have been hell of a lot more boring unless being read with that rolling Scottish accent, especially the sex scenes which made the young man blush in a most hilarious manner.

Thank goodness for that kid, Bodie would have gone mad as a hatter there without him. He had even given the lad his private phone number and told him to take contact if ever there was anything where he could lend a hand, or if Duncan would want to come spend a few days in the civilized world.

Bodie returned to the present day. "There you are, mr Bodie. An hour and a half, not a minute more, and you'll be fetched from here unless the ward nurses bring you back earlier."

The nurse escorting him moved forward to open the door and Bodie heard his own pulse throbbing in his ears.

"And stay put, if I hear a whisper that you've been out and about outside this room, you'll be in trouble."

Whatever the name he would invent for this woman, he'd better make sure it wouldn't get into her ears before _he_ was out of the bloody place. Like Mather, but with needles and stuff.

Yet, all that vanished from Bodie's mind when he was finally pushed into the room and saw the curly head against the white of a pillow, seemingly asleep. Bodie gasped.

The nurse parked his chair close to the bed. "It's only the cask for keeping him immobilized, for the next week or so. Nothing to be worried about. Don't agitate him, and try not to wear him out too much. And call for a nurse if he gets too uncomfortable."

Some women were able to sound like sergeants even when whispering but at least she took her leave right away.

Bodie watched his mate, forgetting all about his own pains and injuries. Ray was pale, deadly pale, and even thinner than before, still wearing support also around his neck. His eyes were moving under his lids, and Bodie couldn't help but stretch his mobile arm and touch his mate's hand. A second later the green eyes opened.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

It took a moment before the eyes focused on his. "Took a turn to worse immediately, Frankenstein."

Ray's eyes were shut again, but his fingers locked around Bodie's as tight as the IV attached to the vein in the back of his hand allowed.


	8. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Two days.

Two days until they would remove the support.

48 hours until the moment he would have to face reality. Until the moment Ray Doyle would be responsible for his recovery. For his life.

He knew that it would come down to that. Eventually. The bottom line being, whether he would be strong enough to fight his way through to mobility. If he lost his guts, the quacks wouldn't be able to do anything. It was as simple as that.

Suddenly the past days, all the pain, the gradually fading disorientation, nurses, needles, Larry, even Bodie, lost their meaning. Ray Doyle squeezed his eyes shut.

"Two days?"

He heard a chair being moved but he missed seeing a pair of blue eyes filled with compassion. _Poor lad. No wonder if he doesn't sleep a bit from this on. He understands. _

"I wouldn't worry too much if I were you, mr Doyle." Ray had never learned to put in order all the multiple syllables in that Sri Lankan doctor's name, and his bubbling accent had suddenly lost all it's ridiculousness, sounding just as amusing as an executioner. "You have regained feeling in your feet as far as we can tell and there are no indications of infection. Of course the removal of the support will cause some discomfort as you have been immobilized for so long, a fortnight by then; it will take a while before your body adjusts to the lack of support again. Luckily you have some of very important assets working for your benefit, mr Doyle. You had a very good muscle tonus to begin with, which gives support of its own although you have naturally lost some of it by now. Also, you are not obese, which spares your spine from excessive strain. And, we are prepared to medicate you according to your needs. Anyway, mr Doyle, only after the support is gone we will be fully aware of the real situation concerning your spine, neurological status of your lower part, and the success of the operation. And also, only after the support is gone, we will be able to start rehabilitating you and start working for your mobility."

That sounded so easy. _**We **__will be able... _Ray felt gentle patting on his upper arm and tried to breathe evenly. The hand gave a little squeeze and stayed. Blessed Martha. Her reassuring voice continued from where the doctor stopped. "And also, according to your friends, you have had very good motoric skills. That also is an asset, even despite the fact that you will practically need to learn to walk again and start from scratches, so to speak, because it's always easier to try and reach something that you have had before, than something you've never had to begin with. Also, even injury-wise your starting point was considerably better than of many of our patients here, due to luck and to the brainy action of your friend."

Martha's voice came from wrong direction and opening his eyes, to his surprise Ray realised that the reassuring touch came from his superior who had taken a seat by his bedside.

The old Scot's eyes were serene but met his without hesitation. "Aye, and this man is so damn stubborn and such a bloody heckler, that if he uses even half of the energy he tends to spend to get up my and everybody else's nose, to the rehabilitation, he'll be on his feet all right."

He gave another little squeeze and Ray noticed a little smile from Martha, directed at both of them. "Is that so? Mr Doyle has been such a good patient to me."

Scot's eyebrow was very high. "Really? That is dreadfully worrying, nurse Newton. Or then I want to get hold on that medicine you've given him, I certainly would have use for that." The nurse's laughter invited a faint smile to Ray's lips and that in turn made the older man smile, and even the doctor gave an insecure little chuckle.

* * *

The neurosurgeon and the nurse left shortly after, and Ray was left alone with his chief. "I wish they hadn't said anything in advance."

Mr Cowley understood his agent completely, and rose to get him some water to drink. "Aye, maybe that would have been better for you. If I were in your place, Doyle, I would be hanging from my nails now."

Ray blinked his eyes a few times, astonished by the unexpected confession, to the point that he almost missed the offered drink.

"But the doctor was in his own opinion only giving you very good news. He is such a young man that he maybe is not quite able to relate to your situation. He knows all about nerves, reflexes, impulses and muscles I'm sure, but maybe not that much about the mind which is supposed to make them function at will." The again seated Controller took a deep breath, and tried to push memories away. "Anyway, as they say, your starting point was not that bad. And you don't need to worry about expenses, your rehabilitation will be fully covered even if services beyond NHS are needed. As will be Bodie's. They have operated on his shoulder this morning, and he'll probably be able to visit you in a couple of days again."

Ray frowned. "I don't understand, Sir. The accident happened on our free time, and at least my accident insurance has some roof for the medical expenses."

His superior hemmed. "What's the point of having all the responsibility, unless some power comes with it? I used a wee bit of creativity in my report, and pushed your compensations through the CI5 insurances, to make sure you both receive all the medical attention you may need."

That left his agent stunned. "But sir..."

The Scot gestured with his hand in an annoyed way. "Och the bloody small prints the doctors have been trying to shove down my throat, I got tired of those. For once I can not blame you for your mishaps, so I decided it would be unfair to both the two of you and the CI5 if you couldn't get all the possible help to get you back on your feet. It's the damn car which will cause most problems actually, but that's nothing we couldn't fix with a little bit of further creativity. Anyway, I am not going to let go of you two only because of some potentially inadequate compensation or service. But..." he gave his agent a long look, "... there's only so much money can do."

Doyle averted his gaze for a while before meeting it. The Scot leaned against the back-rest of his chair and all that Ray could detect of him was calm, not a trace of pity. Although, come to think of it, he _never_ had witnessed pity from his chief, not towards himself, neither towards others. Occasional glimpses of compassion, yes, but not the condescending pity.

"You have made it once before, Doyle. You may have your doubts at the moment, and good Lord, that is more than understandable, but I have every faith in you that you will make it again. And believe me, man, there are not many of whom I would say that."

The steady gaze from the eyes which were not quite as deep blue as Bodie's, but somehow still resembling them, felt like the hand touching Ray's upper arm.


	9. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Cold sweat and tears ran down his face and his whole being was shaking.

"Breathe now, mr Doyle... Ray. Everything is all right. You're there, Ray."

The absurdity of that last sentence made the curly-haired agent whine as that was the only sound he got out of himself. _There_. Bloody hell, on his left side. In the fucking bed still. What a fucking marvellous progress. He forced his eyes open. Martha held his shoulder gently.

"You're a tough one, Ray." Martha was smiling.

"And you're a hell of a liar, Martha" he managed to whisper.

The woman let go of his shoulder to support his head while she set the pillow better. "I didn't need to lie. Some patients are so afraid they scream even before we make the first move. Too bad your ribs were injured too, it adds to your discomfort. Try and relax your muscles now... Anyway, Ray, from the moment on you got rid of those supports, we simply have to start moving you little by little. And believe me – this turn on your side was a real milestone. I am sure it was one of the most difficult turns you've ever made in your life."

Martha gestured something to another nurse and Ray managed to move his head on the pillow. What a strange feeling that was. "What I remember of the first time I got drunk and had to get up to make it to the bathroom, that might have come close. Although I hurt only later. So much I didn't manage even to whine."

Martha chuckled softly. "Oh we have some mighty good stuff here too to get you drunk or get you hung over, but you are lucky enough to skip those from now on if all goes as planned. Feeling better?"

Ray had managed to make his breath steadier. "A little."

Martha nodded to the other nurse and Ray had to smile at her mischievous little grin. "We take advantage of the situation now, Ray, before the doctor returns. A young man like you is an irresistible temptation..."

Ray closed his eyes when the two nurses started to clean him all over. And although it was also embarrassing, the still choking realisation that he _**felt**_ what the women did with his lower parts overcame everything else - even the pain, which still was just behind the corner, so that he remembered it all the time, although it wasn't the center of his existence any longer. And he had moved his legs. Turning, he had MOVED them. Himself.

Feeling had returned gradually the past days, with weird stings and... and tickles and burnings at first, before he had started to feel more normal. Ray knew he still was on heavy anti-inflammatory medication, but his head was quite clear. Which maybe was heavily overrated, as the surge of emotions going through his mind was overwhelming.

"Maybe only a few days, Ray, and you get into a decent shower when you are able to sit up, and we finally get those curls of yours in order. Some days later, you can be there mainly on your own. Some undefinable while later, you walk in there."

He opened his eyes again and met Martha's level gaze.

"I will retire in a month, Ray. And I intend to see you get up standing on your feet before that."

Ray was shocked. "Retire? But you can't... you can't do that!"

The younger nurse bursted out laughing and Martha herself smiled too. "I'm way past my _best before_ -date, Ray. I almost could be a grandmother to some of the youngest nurses. I have been a nurse for over 40 years. Over 25 years of that in different neurosurgical clinics including 15 years here."

Ray looked at her, feeling stunned. Of course he had realised Martha was the oldest nurse of those who were taking care of him – of all nurses, _ever_ - but still she was his absolute favourite. She had all the time been the one who had given him reassurance and security, more than any one of the other nurses or doctors of the ward.

"So believe me, Ray, I know and I have seen enough to say to you that you _will_ get back on your two feet. If you only hold on to your true nature, you will do that." The two nurses were finishing with their wash.

"So... I'm not the worst whiner you've seen?"

The nurses started to cover Ray again with a hospital gown. "Definitely not. You know, I have seen people worse injured than you, who had got on their feet because they have been stubborn enough to not give up. Especially the past years as there has been a lot of progress in the methods we have in our use here. And also I have seen all too many who have given up without a reason even with less severe injuries, and never recuperated to the level they could have. You are a gutsy one, and you have been lucky. So you'd better not disappoint me. The doctor will return soon to talk with you about what they plan next and I thought we might go through the turn again before that. So off to your back now again... yes, that's right... you have all the time in the world, don't rush... aah, that is good, you're a quick learner, Ray love. Take a breath now... And again on your side, easy, easy... we're here, no worries... all the time in the world, remember your legs now, steady... yes. Well done! This is what we are going to do today later too, only do not attempt it alone yet as you need support still. And maybe not yet today, but I'm sure tomorrow it will already be easier. You have been immobilized for so long that your joints and muscles need to adjust a little." The door opened. "Oh good, doctor, this is already the second turn and we've cleaned him. He's all yours now."

The older neurosurgeon, Dr Wong, had returned to the room and he took a chair in front of the agent. "How are you feeling now, mr Doyle? A bit shaky I assume? The first turn is always the worst. At least you look like being conscious, two weeks ago one patient almost fainted." The doctor was smiling.

"You should have told me that beforehand so I could have passed out with clear conscience." Ray liked this quiet senior neurosurgeon.

"I'm sorry you missed your chance, mr Doyle. How did it go, nurse Newton?" Martha had been arranging the equipment.

"It went just as well as I anticipated, doctor, after mr Doyle remembered he actually has two legs to move now. When the pains reduce still, it only gets easier. So I took the liberty to remind him that he'd better not try the turns alone today."

The doctor raised his eyebrows. "_That_ well, hm? I don't know whether it's good or bad news really."

Ray frowned. "What do you mean, doctor?"

The older man gave him a serious look. "It means that you have to be extremely careful because there is the danger you try to over-do it. If it was only a matter of muscles or organs recuperating it would be a different case and I might even encourage you to stretch it at some point, but we are speaking about your spinal cord here and if you blow your recovery now, there may never be another chance to get you back on your feet."

Ray went pale.

"I suppose I made myself clear, mr Doyle."

The agent swallowed. "Yeah... perfectly clear."

Dr Wong straightened his back. "Good. So can I trust you to follow every do and don't you're given from this on, until the critical phase is over?" This patient was one they would otherwise have a great deal of problems with.

"When will it be over then?" Ray frowned, leery already.

"Simple: when I say so, mr Doyle." The doctors eyes were cool. "And believe me, I am the one of us who knows that better." This policeman would be fun to work with. When got into reins, as he would certainly otherwise stretch it too much.

"I don't doubt that, doctor." Ray had come to the conclusion that dr Wong was not trying to show off, but simply wanted to make the situation clear to him. And that was something he was able to accept and appreciate. "I meant, what does that critical phase mean in praxis?"

The doctor sighed. This was good. The man had sense in his head. "It means the period before your damaged vertebrae has ossified adequately. And another critical phase, although shorter, when we remove the screws from your spine in about six months from now if all goes as planned. The time needed for ossification varies so no-one can give you any exact dates at this point. But we follow what is happening in your spine, and from this on you will have a team around you for your rehabilitation, and tomorrow you will meet all of your team. Nurse Newton will also belong to it as your personal nurse, I suppose you don't mind?"

Ray smiled. "Absolutely not. I would have gone to hunger-strike if you had tried to make me part from her."

Martha couldn't help smiling again. "Well we can't have that with a skinny man like you, now can we? Anyway, as I said, I want you to get on your feet before I leave. I promise I will do my best from my part if you promise me the same. Do we have a deal?"

Ray stretched his arm. "We have a deal, nurse Newton."

The neurosurgeon, although left outside that handshake, was content. This man definitely had a chance, if only he would keep his promise and listen to them. "All right, mr Doyle, I want to have a look at the stitches and then examine a little. Your rib probably would appreciate getting rest again..."

The doctor and the nurses were leaving his room, and the door was already shutting when Martha's head peeked in again. "I almost forgot to tell you, you'd better have a beauty-sleep. I was informed you are going to have visitors after lunch. Someone has got out after a shoulder-operation, I doubt if he has a medical consent for that really, and another seems to get his teeny splint changed today and may pop in also if he agrees to stay undetected long enough under cover. That is a police term, isn't it?"

Ray couldn't help chuckling. "Yes it is. Thank you for telling me, Martha." He had missed Bodie and his stupid jokes and it would be fun to see Georgie again.

"Aren't there any size requirements for new police-men any more? I've never seen such a tiny one before." The nurse winked an eye to the laughing Ray and closed the door, chuckling at her own... recklessness, which would have been out of the question before. But the kitten was so sweet, and this man would be one of her very last patients. Ah, dammit, she wanted him on his feet. Kitty whiskers for everything else. And now she had deserved a cup of tea. Definitely.


	10. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Georgie was enjoying himself, although the leg hurt again after the mean bipeds had taken away the strange thing they had put around it, and put another back on its place. He didn't remember it happen because they had given a sting (and he had used his own spikes too before the sting and after he had woken up again), but he had noticed the new smells. He had been a little groggy still when the old one had taken him out of the dark small place where he had travelled, and he hated to feel all around him the same frightening smells than in the place where bipeds had stung him, but once he had realised that he was together with his group – _Chrissake, is that really Georgie? Jesus mate, you look even funnier than before –_ _Stop that Bodie, it's not his fault his ears and tail grow faster than other parts! Right, sir? _- , ALL of his group, he had happily wobbled purring and meowing around the bed where the broken one was laying – _Let's keep an eye on him lads, he'd better not fall with that leg_ - , greeting his friends with all his body from whiskers to the tip of the tail – _Awww Georgie, take your bum outta my face_ - collecting cuddles, and assessing the injuries of the younger ones – _Sir, would you please take him away from there, he's gnawing at my toes!_ - while the bipeds communicated with each other using their own noises – _Rotator cuff rupture? Bloody hell, Bodie, that sounds fancy! - Och, not half as fancy as Macklin will sound when he hears of that, Bodie_ -. His nose first realised that the bleeding one had also a wound in his shoulder – _Errr Churchill, I don't think it's a good idea to try to climb there_ -, and a paw inside some strange cloth – _Listen mate, it's a sling and not meant to be your cradle _- and had fresh smell of stinging-people-place – _I swear Sir, he's pulling faces at me _- but at least his dark hair seemed to be growing back – _Now, Churchill, I told you to not climb there! I'm sorry Bodie, he's getting quite handy jumping and climbing with three legs. Och and by the way lads, you owe me a vase. He also killed a plant, I don't mind about that though, got it from a cousin of mine and now got a legal excuse to throw the bloody bush away_.

And the broken one was somehow less broken, and made more of his friendly noises and breathed better than before – _**SNEEZE**_ - _Georgie – __**SNEEZE**__ – go away from my nose!_ - , and he had been taken out of the strange human thing from around him – _He really looked at me like an owl last time when he was here_ . Georgie sneezed a couple of times as the broken one smelled of those stinging-people-place liquids all around, they must have soaked the poor friend with it – _Look how he's rubbing himself all over Ray, that's peculiar _- , and when he put his head down he realised there came a smell of fresh open wound from under the cover, somewhere near the break. - _Oi he's up to something, I know that look, keep an eye on him now_ - He tried to go to check and clean it, but once he had started to push himself under the cover, the old one pulled him out and let him understand that in this place it was not all right to go under cover – _Stay PUT now or you'll spend the rest of the day in that box, you little imbecill!_ - . Georgie pondered about that for a moment, then decided to go and give a good rubbing to the broken one's neck and cheek now as the other strange thing had disappeared from around the neck – _Awww it's as if he's hugging Ray..._ - and as his nose told him nobody had groomed his friend properly, he started to work on that curly hair instead – _Yeah I know, I'd like to get it washed too _- . These bipeds seemed to like being groomed, - _Och, look, he's getting to his favourite hobby _- even this time the curly one soon closed his eyes and Georgie was sure the curly biped would have purred if he could – _Look Sir, Ray is soon in trance again. – Shuddup, Bodie... - Ach, that cat surely gives a good night's sleep easily. - Wasn't he banned from your bed, sir? - Hrmph... So when will they take the stitches from your back? _ Funny how these bipeds could not do such simple things like purring, but they could use their front paws in nice ways, and once Georgie, after spitting out mouthfuls of very un-co-operative hair – _Jesus Ray, isn't there any way they could wash your hair? That looks pitiful, seriously_ - , gave up and carefully climbed on the curly one's chest, he got to enjoy of the front paws of all these bipeds of his – _He falls asleep if you rub his chest and under his chin when he's on his back. Look now...See? _- It was so very nice to stretch out and relax... and the friendly voices carried the tired and hungry kitten into a blissful nirvana.

Not even interruption – _By Jove, stop hissing at once! Nurse Newton has every right to come in here!_ - managed to spoil the visit. - _Oh is this Georgie? You're a protective little agent, aren't you? Yes you are, you're such a nice-looking tiny policeman, but now I have to give your protegé a pill, sweetie... Here you are, Ray... But I have something for you too sweetie, would you like a little cheese? Would you? Cream cheese, oh yes isn't that nice? What a sweet little Georgie you are, and have such a lovely name... so fitting to a little friendly charming __**cutie**__ like you... What is it Ray, __goodness did you inhale your pill? Now take it easy, try and breathe, I get you more water._ - Also the dark-haired one got trouble breathing and the old one had suddenly all red ears, but the cheese still tasted nice after the curly friend started to breathe properly again and Georgie quickly consumed the last bits in case his biped friends would want to have a share too.

Not a bad visit at all, and he didn't fight too much against being put into the box again, as he was tired and hungry still, and guessed they would go home and have their meals and then he could have another good sleep. He guessed they had gone in that bad-smelling growling thing but it was not that bad as he could smell the dark-haired one very close and hear also his voice – _If you could keep him for another fortnight or so, sir, I think I could manage better with him when the worst is over with the bloody shoulder. Maybe he gets rid of the splint also before that_ - , and once the dark-haired one had left, it was only a little while before the box was opened again and the little tabby could have a deep breath of relief in his own litter-box after all the excitement of the day.

And in the evening, they settled comfortably into a big arm-chair, Georgie in the armpit of his biped friend, who rubbed his tummy and chest and cheeks and ears and under his chin in the perfect way he could. - _Well then little lad, two weeks more and you move out. My vases and pots will start to stay safe, there won't be cat-hair in my marmalade and bite-marks in the ham, and I don't need to ask anyone to come see you during the day and I can turn in my bed any which way I want without fearing I crush you. Downside of course being that damned Turner from Home Office can again come inside this place and breathe. - _Georgie purred, happy, listening only to his nicely full tummy, and to the secure warmth and the touch which told him that everything was fine in his little world, and when his good paw stretched out to search the chin of his friend, the face came closer to accept the touch, just like the kitten knew would happen. And tonight he didn't need to ask for being lifted on the bed.


	11. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

"You all right, Ray?" A warm hand had stayed on Doyle's upper arm.

Green eyes were blinking rapidly. "Bodie?"

There was a squeeze to his bicep. "Right here, mate. You dozed off somewhere between the PM's speech and the oil prices." The dark-haired man had seen his friend's heaving breast and had decided to wake Ray up.

"The car or the cottage?"

Ray averted his gaze and didn't reply to his soft question.

Bodie stayed quiet for a moment, and then Ray saw him stand up and walk around the bed to look out from a window. The bleak late-winter sun shyly touched the pale face, and suddenly Ray was seeing a face and figure which were somehow familiar, yet new. With a pang of guilt the startled man realised that during these weeks he had not paid attention to the changes in his mate, being too immersed into his own pains and fears.

Bodie had lost weight. Not a pound or two, but a stone or two. That, and the shortness of his hair – Ray had never seen his hair trimmed as short as it was now, to accompany the shaved area, almost a half of his head – made the man look years younger... no. It _would_ have made the man look years younger, if there wasn't the paleness, and the small facial creases betraying history. The white sling was in striking contrast with the black clothes, as was his paleness. And to his shock, Ray realised another thing: Not once had he asked Bodie if _he_ was all right. _Chrissake_... Shame filled him.

"The barrow." His voice was husky, quiet. Bodie stayed silent, but a tiny, unconscious nod told Ray that Bodie had heard him. "You?"

Bodie still stayed silent, until Ray saw him take a deep breath. "The fall into the river. Last night, right when I was falling asleep. But it's not the worst." Ray saw the man turn away.

"What is then?" He was sure he wouldn't get a reply. And Bodie hid his face from him.

_When Georgie screams. When he screams and screams and screams and I can't reach him. But it's not Georgie who screams, it's you... And in the car, your cold wet face and cold, wet, not breathing mouth... _Bodie squeezed his eyes shut.

"What is, Bodie?" To his astonishment, Ray heard worry and gentleness in his own voice.

That was what made the bigger man reply. "Can't pick up one. Pretty nightmarish the whole fucking business..."

Ray saw the man take another deep breath, then force his shoulders relax. "Yeah, that's true." _Yeah mate... that is so true. Yet you got me out of there. You got me and Georgie out of there, mate... but to what price? And... _"Are you out of there, Bodie?" It took a fragment of a second before Ray realised he had asked it out loud, and he saw his partner's back go rigid, before the man slowly turned, and looked back at him.

_I will be, once I see you take a step on your own two feet._

"I will be. As always." _As always, you will get on your feet, Ray._

"As always."

* * *

"Another milestone reached, I see." Mr Cowley nodded approvingly at the sight of the end of Doyle's bed finally lifted so that the patient was in more or less sitting position. "Must feel like nice change, eh, Doyle?" The agent gave him something that might be interpreted as an effort to smile.

"Yeah, I guess I should be happy 'bout this. To be able to see a little more of the floor and not only the ceiling."

The Controller took himself a chair. "Aye... frustrating, must be, to try and accept these small steps. Especially for someone with your infamous patience, Doyle."

Now, that was a genuine little smile.

"Ach, before I forget. These are from Betty, maybe not quite worth a bottle of malt but could be healthier for you under the circumstances."

There was quite a big paper bag filled with assorted dried fruits, and Ray's eyes lit up as the sweet mixture of scents made his mouth water. "Ah these are great, thank Betty a million for me, will you, sir? Bodie brought me chocolate filled with liquor and those bloody hawks confiscated all of it before I got the first one in me mouth... I demanded a receipt for it."

The Scot chuckled. "Ach well, you'd still better inform nurse Newton about that too. But don't be too cross with the nurses, you are still getting such strong medication that they must have an order to play it safe with you." He opened his coat and leaned back a little, and for a few minutes they updated each other about the latest developments, and the Controller was content when he heard that the doctors had finally dared to remove the drain tube and most of the stitches from Doyle's back.

Something seemed to be bothering the agent though, yet he seemed to be hesitant to open his mouth. "Now, is there something you want to talk about, Doyle?"

The old man seemed relaxed, and Ray still wondered whether he should ask or not. "It's Bodie, Sir." Worry overcame everything else.

"What about him?" Despite the relaxation, the old man's gaze had sharpened.

"Have you been talking to him lately, Sir?"

The Scot shook his head to offered fruits. "Not since I took him home from here. We talked a little on our way but it was mainly about the kitten. What about Bodie?"

Doyle was frowning and put the bag aside. "He was here today... Can't help thinking that he's not doing as well as he lets out, the bloody mule that he is..."

So... even Doyle had noticed that. The older man took a breath before replying anything. "Aye. As far as I know, considering his injuries he's doing quite all right, medically speaking. And the orthopedics said the operation had gone well. But I've noticed that Bodie is not quite himself. I've seen that many times though, and nowadays they even have a name for it, PTSD it's called. _Post traumatic stress disorder_, and I can't help wondering for how long Bodie has managed to avoid it, with all he's been through in his life."

Doyle seemed to be instantly relieved. His chief sounded so matter-of-factly, not a hint of scorn in his voice. "It's different from that King Billy incident, sir. Maybe because now he's injured himself too and can't work."

The Scot nodded. "Aye. I've noticed he's lost his appetite, by the looks of him, and is more quiet in company. It was young Lennox who first alerted me about Bodie's moods, which I find remarkable as he didn't even know Bodie before the accident. And definitely his forced idleness is not doing him good. But it can't be helped, it's a plain fact that he's not capable of working at the moment."

The Scot took a deep breath and gave his agent a very piercing look. Ach, this moment is as good or bad as any, and Doyle seemed to be quite lucid. He would need to confront Bodie also about Doyle, of course... but...

Ray felt his throat go dry in an instant when he understood what the old man said to him.

"Doyle... I need to talk with you about Bodie's possible future in CI5."

"Sir... isn't it my future in the squad which is more at risk?"

The Controller looked at Doyle a little surprised. Not because of the question, as it was a fair one, but because of the tone. He had deliberately formulated his question to Doyle in a manner which would provoke a genuine reaction – that wasn't too hard, Doyle was Doyle and the man's middle name could be Reaction – but he had more expected to witness anger, than this... quiet anxiety, especially as he got a clear impression that it wasn't anxiety or worry over Doyle's own position, but over the one of his partner.

So... he hadn't been wrong. Something had happened between the two.

"Now, Doyle, I'm a realist. It will take months before we can make any decisions about you. And to be honest, whatever the outcome of your recuperation, you still are the one of the two of you with more options. You are still basically a policeman, and used to routines other than being in action all the time. Bodie is a soldier. The only reason for him to tolerate being behind any desk is that he is not allowed to skip it, to be able to get the next assignment." There was edge in the old man's voice. "And let's face it: He too has had his share of injuries. Not always as immediately life-threatening as yours, but for example his shoulder will not survive another crash, not necessarily even breaking through a door. Third time would not be lucky to him anymore, the doctors made that clear. And neither he, or you, are getting younger, Doyle. Whether you like it or not, even if you would still recuperate back to the field this time, both of you, your time on the field will be limited. And these injuries you got now, probably took the limit closer by years rather than by months." Doyle seemed almost shocked, but he would probably be honest in his replies... so the Controller continued.

"And with his uncaring attitude, I have hard time imagining him doing anything else for the CI5. You have pretty much been the only reason why he has chosen to stay even this far."

There was silence.

"I wanted to talk about this with you first, Doyle, before taking it up with Bodie, so that I could get to hear your honest personal opinions without Bodie's influence. You have the most... intimate knowledge of the man, after all."

Now there was a flash in agent's eyes. "Intimate, what the hell do you mean by that? Do you think we're gays or what?"

The Scot sighed. "Intimate as _innermost_ and _private_, Doyle. It's one of those words with multiple meanings. If the two of you had been lovers, you would have killed each other years ago already, _and_ I would have kicked you out, as the two of you would have made life a misery for everyone around you. Well you do that more or less even now, damned hecklers that you are, but I definitely wouldn't have tolerated any lovers' fights added to the usual trouble you two give me." That left Ray blinking for a while before he found his tongue again.

"Bodie is not uncaring."

That made mr Cowley raise his eyebrows. "Coming from someone who regularly complains about exactly that, I have it quite hard to believe your comment." Now, this was turning interesting. Doyle had given an impression of sincerity.

"Well yeah, I know. But... I have often... misinterpreted him. Let him fool me. He wants to show he doesn't care. But he does. He showed that there, in the house."

The Scot hemmed. "That he cares about you, Doyle, that's imminent, he wouldn't have worked with you so long if he didn't. But that doesn't say he would care about CI5 or his work." Again the agent's eyes flashed. Good.

"You wouldn't say that if you had heard..." Ray swallowed, suddenly uncertain, not willing to break the trust his mate had shown him.

"Heard what, Doyle?" The man stayed silent. "Now, Doyle, what is it?" He allowed his voice a little friendlier. "I'm not interested in too many details. But I'm interested in the essential."

The green eyes met his again. "We talked there. Talked quite some, as I couldn't sleep, too scared of... everything."

Ray expected to see... scorn, pity, anger, on that face. But all he saw was the man turning to take a little water. "Considering the circumstances, if you hadn't been frightened you hadn't been human. Do you want to have something to drink?" Again, Ray was surprised, and accepted the offered glass of water with a straw.

"I may be quite a lot more tough-skinned than your average man, Doyle, but that doesn't mean I would expect my men to be robots. Escaping death by a whisker and facing permanent injury in the middle of nowhere, the way you did, for most, "scared" wouldn't have covered a fragment of it. Now, what is it that you wanted to tell about Bodie?" Maybe re-phrasing the question would help Doyle to speak without compromising confidentiality, as the Scot expected most of those talks had been of the most private kind; he was ready to respect that, at least to a degree. And indeed, it seemed to help.

"He's... dunno, maybe people have expected him to act cold. And it's become a habit to him. A cover, shield. But he cares. You should have seen how he took care about Georgie, after Georgie came to take care of him, I mean, came to brush his head on him and cleaned his temple... and when Georgie got hurt there at the slope, where he had followed Bodie when Bodie went to check the road."

Ahh... a big man's instinctive response to a small cat's instinctive friendliness. So Bodie was not immune after all, and seemed to really have a strong protective trait in him. The things kittens could do... the Controller carefully hid his fond smile and made a mental note to buy a pole where the little tiger could use his claws. The sofa wasn't quite ideal for that. Or his leg.

"And he... well, he appreciates the Squad. There's a lot he could do outside field service, sir. He is selling himself cheap, but he's smart. Ok he can be a bastard, but so am I..." Staring at his glass, Doyle missed the genuine surprise on his superior's face. Doyle wasn't usually among the first to admit his own weaknesses, despite his guilt-trips. "I mean, given the motivation, he could learn more. And he could teach. Goddammit the way he used his head there..." Doyle was shaking his head, with a look of admiration on his face.

Aye... food for thought, here. "Well then, and what would you suggest as his motivator then?" Mr Cowley didn't really expect for an answer, but got it nevertheless, instantly.

"Feeling of being needed. Of making a difference."

The old Scot was still deep in his thoughts when he got to detaching the purring kitten from his long coat.


	12. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Goddammit.

What would he do if Bodie left the squad? All right, what would _Bodie_ do?

Ray had never before thought of the possibility that _Bodie_ would be the one being forced to leave service. But the talk with their superior had brought that possibility clear and painful into his mind. The old man had talked sense, nobody could deny that. And he was worried, the Controller was; that was maybe most frightening of all, as the man let such feelings into open rarely, if ever.

Despite Bodie being ambidextrous, as he proudly claimed, a field agent would need two fully functioning shoulders and arms, to be able to hit, throw, climb. And Bodie did use more his right arm. Definitely more. Ok the quacks rather played safe than sorry, but if they really had said that the shoulder would not bear another crash or injury, that was bad, to say like that, they were being serious about it.

And Ray knew that was not the only injury for Bodie. The agent had been stabbed, bad, almost losing his other kidney, and whatever else that damn infection had caused, Ray didn't even know because Bodie had bluntly refused to tell him – sure sign there had been something really severe. And the years the man had been in Africa and god-knows-where, who knew what had happened there? Or in SAS? Most those guys did get crashed one time or another, especially the parachuters... Bodie could be an accident waiting to happen, for all Ray knew. He might have some tropical disease lurking inside his system to wait for the perfect time to emerge, or might have broken some bone, or a joint – knee, ankle, wrist – ready to break again, and Ray wasn't aware of that.

What would Bodie do if he wasn't fit enough for the field, and decided to not stay in some other position, even if the old man would arrange something? Despite his certain lazyness, the man was an adrenalin junkie, as was Ray too, he – they – would need something to keep the mind occupied. And the old man had been right – of them two, Ray was the one who could adjust easier to other police-work, for as long as it had some meaning. He would be happy... no, not happy, but he would _tolerate_ digging out information, or sitting doing surveillance or something like that, for as long as it was _worth_ something. But would Bodie? The man was no pen-pusher. And he didn't even have the training.

What would the man do outside CI5?

Something _stupid_, probably.

He would stretch it, that was certain. The Army wouldn't take him back due to injuries if he was cast out from the field in CI5, but he might start working as a hired muscle, bodyguard or something like that. Or then, he might return to be a mercenary. Or... would he? Maybe not where ever or in who ever's service, Ray wanted to believe the man wouldn't return to the _other side_, but if he got desperate enough...

One thing was certain. If the man wouldn't get his kicks from adrenalin, he would search them elsewhere. Ray knew the type, he had seen them enough for the lifetime when working in the drug-squad. Bodie would try to fight it, he wasn't stupid, and he would try to keep to birds, but if he got bored enough, if he lost his self-esteem bad enough... he didn't shun from the bottle to begin with, neither did Ray, both knew their limits but both also had crossed those dozens of times if there wasn't a need to stick to them. And if Bodie wouldn't be working for the old man, there was no need to limits, not the way there was now. The Cow expected his men be in working condition when they were on duty, he didn't mind if the nose was a little bleak after the weekend, but as it was well possible that the man in question would find himself running under Macklin's eye, there was no sense in taking the risk more often than necessary. But god forbid if it was anything more than a mere aftermath of a hangover, the old man made you firmly decide that the first time also was the last.

Anyway, Ray couldn't be sure if there was anything aside work and women that would make Bodie keep away from the bottle. He would need a meaning to his life, before it really would be a life wasted.

Larry came, and for a couple of hours, Ray was distracted from his grim thoughts by the good-humoured man. Martha came later for the night-shift, and introduced Ray a nice young woman, nurse starting her specialization to neurosurgery, but funny enough, all that caused, was Ray wondering if Bodie had anyone with him now. Between them, the two agents had dated maybe a dozen nurses, and this cheeky girl was more Bodie's type than Ray's own, but all of a sudden Ray also realised that this girl was so young – or he himself was so _old_ – that she hardly could be his sister any more, hell, it wouldn't take many years more and the girl could almost be his _daughter_. And again, that made the curly-haired man fall into dark thoughts.

"Now, Ray, what's wrong?" Martha had returned, to tuck him in for the night, as she said. "You are a quiet one today. Is there something bothering you?"

"Was reminded of mortality, that's all." _And not only mine_.

Falling into an uneasy slumber, he saw the solitaire figure of the slim, short-haired dark man, standing in front of the window, his back turned.

Quiet.


	13. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

"_**FUCK**__!"_

Bodie took a deep breath and shook his head, exasperated. "Chrissake, Ray! You scare half the bloody hospital! And what would have Larry said if he had heard, eh? Or Alan? Or Alan's _mum_? These rooms are not sound-proof, you know! Sorry for that, mrs Taylor."

The physio, a robust built brunette about Ray's age, only shook her head. "Impatient patient, our mr Doyle. What did you expect, going jogging after three weeks in bed? For goodness' sake, you have barely got permission to sit up!"

But Ray, who had collapsed on his bed, shaking and sweating, didn't pay any attention, and to Bodie, it looked like his mate was close to tears. The physio had probably seen a lot of that, as she didn't seem to mind. "Look, mr Doyle, what I try to tell you is, that we, you and I, are supposed to work hard to regain, meaning, get back, your mobility, and to strengthen your muscles, but that will be a process of _weeks_ and _months_, and this here is barely the very first session of isometrics to you! Done right, these excercises make even a fit person sweat in minutes, and pardon my French, you're not even close to that category, yet you will be once I'm finished with you. Does your back hurt more than before the excercise?"

Bodie gave the woman an admiring look. This was a woman he didn't want to make angry. Didn't take nonsense, this lady.

Ray fought his breathing more stable. "Only the area of the wound really, but my ribs hurt worse, it's hard to breathe."

Mrs Taylor nodded. "Well we knew to expect that, didn't we? They did reassure me that your ribs have healed enough for this but of course there still is pain. What about your neck?" The last MRI had shown the neck was practically healed, but still it was possible there could be pain.

"Neck? Didn't even remember it." Bodie saw Ray swallow. "But I couldn't keep myself tense for longer than bloody seconds! As if I'm some friggin' jello, goddammit!"

Bodie sighed. "Listen sunshine, use the insides of that mop of yours, eh?"

Ray looked like exploding. "Well I do, don't I? I couldn't fucking do anything! I got that perfectly clear!"

Bodie saw the physio roll her eyes. "Men. What if I told you that you just lifted approximately 40 kilos for 10 seconds using only the muscles of your neck and back?"

Ray blinked. "But I didn't..."

Bodie suppressed his grin. Ray would probably try to hit him spotting any inappropriate expression. "You lifted your own body weight, berk. And yeah everybody knows you weigh more than that, but we only are talking about your mid. Now, would you really try to understand what mrs Taylor tried to explain to you already before you started? She did use very simple phrases you know, but you were so aflutter you seem to have missed _everything_. Or do you want me to explain? I can fetch a dictionary and explain you every word real slow. I can start by explaining her telling that it's a question of at least 12 weeks therapy, which is approximately 3 months, or 84 days, and this day is number one, _uno_, first, alpha, and it takes 83 days more to get to day 84... So don't be an idiot." Bodie had lost his joking tone. "They only fixed my fucking shoulder, sunshine. And the last I spoke with the orthopedic, I am probably off duty for another month still, if I'm fucking lucky! Damn _shoulder_ only! And they are not even sure if they can restore the motorics fully."

Ray was able to see the bigger man halt and struggle to hide something he did not want to show.

"Anyway the point is, there's no point in... dammit, simply try to be patient, all right? Mrs Taylor, tell him straight, did he do well or not?"

The physio gave this other policeman, who still carried his arm in a sling, a secretly appreciating look. "You want my honest answer for that?" Two nods came immediately. "You did fine, mr Doyle. There are many who don't manage even that in the beginning. Your starting point is already better than with many spine-patients I have worked with, and so is your prognosis, if you are willing to work hard enough, but without pushing it too far. These isometric excercises are meant to make your muscles work but so that it doesn't cause strain to your damaged vertebrae, as I already told you. And don't worry, you are going to sweat and swear many times, but as you seem to belong to those who sweat while working and swear after, that looks very promising to me. Now, we repeat the excercise, and if you can hold yourself up for five seconds, I am happy. Just one thing; as I happen to hate that particular word you used, would you mind trying to use something else this time?"

But as a pang of worry over his mate had already hit Ray, he actually managed the repeat without foul words.

Bodie watched his mate pull together his stamina to manage, flushed, sweating, grimacing, through the excercises for different groups of muscles, without knowing what was the reason driving his mate; during this session and during the coming days.

Fear.

Fear of losing a partner – and the fear of Bodie losing himself.


	14. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

"Och, you can't be serious!" The Controller gave the CI5 medic an exasperated look. "I can't bloody believe this! _Appendicitis_?" It was one of the rare moments when George Cowley wanted to go and bang his head against a wall.

"They already confirmed that from the hospital and he'll be operated this afternoon. He won't be able to get back on the field for another 3-4 weeks. But I have to go now. Have a nice day." The medic calmly turned and took his leave.

The Controller stared at the closed door. Fred should have gone to a stakeout, but had complained about stomach pain. The Controller, who was well aware that the man deeply detested stakeouts, had been leery, but it had turned out that Fred really had appendicitis. Off the field for 2-3 weeks... _Goddammit! _ What curse was it that had jinxed CI5? One agent dead, Kennedy returned to consciousness only a few days ago, recovering physically little by little but so traumatized that it was dubious he could ever return to duty, Doyle not even on his feet yet, and that literally speaking. Bodie still hand in a sling, Jax limping badly after an injury to his ankle... Six men off the field. _Six_. And all this in less than four weeks. Less than four _miserable_ weeks.

There was a knock on the door and prompted, Murphy stepped in. "You wanted to see me?" Although the _sir_ was missing, tone was still polite and respectful.

"Aye. Sit down, Murphy. I meant to talk about that Robertson, but the whole investigation must now be re-arranged. We're short of men, Murphy, I was told a moment ago that Fred's appendix decided to save him the trouble of a stakeout. He can't be sent to the field for a few weeks and it will take days before he is useful in any manner whatsoever."

There was a tinge of bitterness in the Scot's voice, so Murphy thought for a while before saying anything as he was so worn out he really didn't want to take any unnecessary outbursts from his superior. "Jax can do surveillance, he said his ankle hurts still so much anyway that he won't be able to sleep much. But then I have to take Benton as his back-up, and hope to God there won't be a need to send him running. If I get a good night's sleep I can manage a longer shift tomorrow with Bob but I need to sleep now."

The Controller could see the strain on the tall man's face, he had been up for the last 36 hours already. "Take Benton then, and tell the men that they are allowed to call in the uniforms by their own judgement. Those two are experienced enough to make the decision without me or anyone else meddling. I try to see to it that we do not take any new assignments unless it is something extremely important, I must have a new look on things in order to re-priorise. And I must have a look at the personnel files. This is _intolerable_, we must get new people _now_. And if the Home Secretary tries to whimper about it, I will rub it into his face that CI5 lost men because we were the only ones who took those Aberdeen lunatics seriously. "

Murphy was as practical as always. "We need people and quickly, but we also need people to train them even if we recruit straight from the police, army or anywhere. And as a rule, the MI's won't let their people defect. Those would need the least re-training. With luck Jax is back on track in a matter of days, but we really should get more people in case Fred, Bodie and Ray are off the count for more than a couple of weeks. The trained ones will be needed in the field, but the instructor for newbies should also be a very experienced guy. And Macklin has his hands full as it is."

The Scot grunted. "And you think I don't know that? I need to have a look on that matter anyway, because in a year or two we are starting to lose older agents from the field. But now, go talk with Jax. Hasn't the man heard about painkillers?"

Murphy smiled. "He does take some, but said that if he takes enough to really cut off the pain, it messes with his head. And he rather stays sharp."

Mr Cowley nodded approvingly. Jax was a good man and they had been told that best remedy for that blasted ankle was simple rest. "Off you go then. Tell Jax I want a report in the morning. Debrief Jax and Benton properly so they have all the information they need for action if something happens. And after that you go to your bed." The Scot knew that some other agencies, as well as the army, used pills to keep the men awake and alert over the normal hours, but he was so fiercely against drugs of any kind, that he never ordered his men to use other chemical help than coffee, to stay awake in their work, being well aware of the possible side-effects. If he would take that path, the men would be more or less high much of the time, given their line of work. No. He pushed his men hard, but he never expected them to be machines.

"Will do, Sir. " Murphy took his leave, and for the thousandth time the Controller thought that no-one, seeing the way the man loitered in the halls and corridors of the HQ, could ever believe the efficiency he was capable of. And Murphy was one of those who also quickly thought of the bigger picture without prompting, a skill that was valuable.

The Scot sat behind his desk for a couple of minutes, before buzzing the desk-phone. "Get me the files of every single applicant we have had the past 18 months. Also, files of every agent retired the past two years. Get the head-master of Bramshill into phone, and tell Macklin, if you get a hold of him, that I want to have a word with him..." the Scot checked the time, "in one hour. Otherwise I'm not to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon unless it is something very important." He thought for a moment. "And call NHNN, I want to know when Doyle is available today."

It was time for another talk.


	15. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

"Didn't even know he had applied, he liked it in the drug squad. Why didn't you take him at the time?" Doyle was reading a file, frowning.

"Harrington was picked up then, and what made me most hesitate was, that Thompson was going under an internal investigation." The Controller sighed and stretched his back. He was tired of sitting.

"What? Internal... On what ground?" Doyle seemed genuinely surprised.

"Using unnecessary violence when making an arrest, and also he had received a severe notice for insubordination against his superior. Also he had been suspected for planting evidence, which was for me the gravest issue." That made Doyle raise his eyebrows.

"Curiouser and curiouser as in Wonderland. Yeah Thompson has always been a bit of a hothead, but he's always got along with Banbury and Banbury never seemed to have much trouble in curbing his temper. They've been fair with each other. And I have it bloody hard to believe Thompson would have tampered with evidence." How different Doyle appeared now as his thoughts had been pulled away from the hospital bed, the Scot could easily see more life in the green eyes.

"I am under impression that issue was dropped after the investigation. And if you mean Thomas Banbury, as far as I know, he was forced to retire due to health issues, and the superior in question is Andrew Manson." The Scot saw Doyle grimace.

"Oh bloody hell... then I don't wonder at all. I worked with Manson for a few months, yeah, and after he was appointed a temporary leader of our team, he got his fair share of those "_quite a few run-ins_" you sometime mentioned, sir. Can't figure out why he stayed in the drug-squad to begin with. Hard to think of another section which would suit him worse."

"Interesting. How would you describe or characterize Manson yourself, Doyle?" The agent rubbed his nose.

"I sometimes heard you use a good word. _Constipated_. Fits the man perfectly."

Mr Cowley had to smile. "Ach... there are such people around. Unfortunately. But usually in the ministries and not in the drug-squad, I agree. Anyway, I'm glad I have managed to broaden your vocabulary. But back to more serious business then. This Dan Thompson, do you think he'd be worth recruiting if he still is interested?" Even before mr Cowley had finished the last sentence, Doyle was nodding.

"Unless he has completely crashed the past months when I haven't heard about him, yeah, definitely. But he needs someone thick-skinned as his partner, he's... well, not that different from me, actually. Which was the main reason why we didn't really get along that well." Now the agent looked a little embarrassed.

Fascinating, what the unfortunate accident had caused, the Scot mused in his mind.

"And I'm not sure about the extent of his combat-skills, saw him seldom in action as we didn't work that much together, but I know he used to keep fit, play football and run and things like that. Also a good shot with pistol, pretty much my class. He's good in the police-work, and doesn't shun from tough places. I'd say he's worth given a chance."

"Despite you not getting along with him." The Scot gave a piercing glance.

"That's trivial." Doyle's eyes didn't shift. "He's a good copper. Could be a real asset. And I won't be there to fight with him any time soon, I gather. If ever." Now the eyes had darkened but the man straightened his back. "Anyways, he'd make a good team with someone like Murphy." The agent seemed to sigh. "Or Bodie." That came very quietly.

As Doyle turned his gaze aside, he missed seeing a flash of warmth and compassion in the eyes of the old man. But the Scot didn't allow much of that in his voice. "Well, even if we got Thompson, that doesn't still help much, unless his superiors allow him to leave disregarding the usual time of notice. In the current situation we need at least a couple of men and quickly. I will talk with Thompson, and if he is interested, I try to lean on Manson to let him go. Is Thompson a man who listens to straight talk?"

"At least what I know of him, yeah. He's a straightforward kind of bloke, and that goes both ways." Doyle closed the dossier and handed it back to his superior.

"Good. Thank you, Doyle, I trust your judgement there. If I have managed to tolerate you all these years, I guess I survive these last ones with him too." The Scot put the file into his briefcase and leaned back. "I talked with Archie also, as well as Tommy Pennington. Archie has got his ulcer sorted out, looks like, and Tommy said he is getting bored rigid, so at least we do have some temporary backup for surveillance and so forth, if we manage to work around their pensions. But we also need feet and brawn and not only brain. Suggestions?"

"Bramshill, I'd say. I mean, if they haven't changed the system, the last year trainees are at the moment desperately trying to find training posts where they wouldn't be spat on."

Mr Cowley nodded. "Aye, the Academy... och, sorry, Police Staff College. The Americans have infected us with those utterly stupid films." In response to Doyle's surprised gaze, he chuckled. "I do sometimes watch television, Doyle. Can't be resentful if I do not know the subject, can I?" He saw the agent smile. "Anyway, I already thought about that too, because we do need young blood also. But do you think we could get useful agents out of, what our American friends call _rookies_?"

Doyle scratched his unruly curls and thought. The man definitely needed haircut, the Scot thought, but then again, that hardly was the first priority.

"Yeah... I do think so. Of course, experience is an asset, but then again, it's not everything. And not everybody there is as wet behind ears work-wise as I was when I entered. With some luck you could find there blokes with Army training, for example, or with some special skills. Besides, as trainees, it's easier to drop off any unsuitable people. Absolutely worth giving a try. Oh yeah, and they are cheap labour too." Now, that glance was even humorous. Good. Doyle was coming alive again.

The Controller sighed. "There only is the problem that they need to be selected, that done quickly, and trained still for us. Even if we would only use them as temporary duct-tape, so to speak. Even Thompson needs some tutoring. And we don't have people to spare for that. Unless..." Ach, Doyle's eyes squinted. Good lad.

"... unless you use someone experienced enough who is not for use at the field."

The Scot nodded his approval for Doyle's quick wit. "Exactly. Do you think Bodie would be up to it? I tried to call his apartment a few times but he didn't answer the phone." Was there a flash of worry in the green eyes? "But probably he was seeing the physiotherapist."

"Probably, yeah..." Doyle seemed to have his own suspicions though, judging by the way his teeth almost sank into his lower lip. "Anyway, thinking about training the... eh, duct-tape, I think it would be a brilliant idea to use Bodie. Yeah. He might be able to help with the selection, and definitely with giving a crash-course. A few days with the newbies and he'd also be able to help with pairing, I mean..."

"I know what you mean, Doyle." Controller nodded, Doyle had given him reassurance that his thoughts were not that wild after all. He took his gloves. "All right, I better get going, I will meet the Minister in 45 minutes." The Scot got on his feet, and as if remembering something, returned his attention to the agent. "Och, one thing, Doyle, as I will be damned busy the next few days, yet this matter being of urgency, would you mind lending a hand in the first selection of trainees? I already contacted the College, and they are supposed to deliver us information on persons who their trainers consider potentially useful for our needs and who are interested, I expressed a wish for some 20-30 names if only there is interest enough. Betty will collect their files tomorrow morning, and as far as I'm concerned, she might as well bring the files here for your first evaluation. You have as good a picture of what we needed as anyone, and if you could for example pick out, let's say ten names, I, or Bodie, could go on from there. If Bodie is interested, that is." Again there was a flash in Doyle's eyes, where the Scot had focused on.

And … urgency, plea? in Doyle's voice. "I won't mind helping, not at all. Apart from the physio, all I have is bloody time here. And yeah I understand it's a bad situation for the Squad, was that even before Fred and Jax. Bodie understands that too, or at least will if you tell him about the latest. I know he may freak out, a sort, say he's no teacher or anything, but if you give him a little directions, what you'd expect of him, he'll make it. He has the head, Bodie does, and he's so experienced, he knows the job, our job, even without the police-training, and he's been working with me for so long he has a good idea on the police-work stuff too." Doyle turned his eyes away momentarily. "And that would give him something to focus on. Something important. Meaningful. To help the Squad and the partners there. And he can come talk with me any time, if there's something I can help with."

The green eyes returned. "And you can tell that berk he'd better say yes. That _**I **_told him to take the assignment and I will kick his arse from here to eternity if he doesn't bloody take that!"

In the corridor, George Cowley allowed himself a little smile.


	16. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Bodie didn't look quite well when he opened the door in the evening. And he seemed to lack any reaction to his superior's visit, which was unusual, as more often that not, the man was at least curious, if not annoyed, which, actually, was the more usual alternative. But now, he only opened the door, grunted _come in_ and appeared oddly subdued. Also, for the first time in years, the Scot saw Bodie in form he only could call _thin_. Not quite like Doyle used to be, as Doyle was generally more lightly built in any case, but certainly there was not an ounce of fat left in the ex para, and it looked like he had also lost muscle. That as itself was understandable, considering the circumstances as the man hardly was able to excercise properly, but that considerable loss of weight, in a man with Bodie's appetite, that felt... alarming. And, the Scot barely managed to hinder himself from counting the tablets in the package of painkillers he saw on the table – next to a bottle of whisky.

"Wouldn't recommend that combination, Bodie." The Controller didn't hide the edge in his voice, nodding towards the bottle and the pills. There was a dark glance but the man didn't say anything, only threw himself sitting on a sofa. "Those particular pills may cause nasty surprises with alcohol, and even before you ask, yes I can tell that from experience." Now, that caused a mild reaction in the younger man. "Luckily, my goal is only to empty a glass and not the whole bar, as may be the case with _some other men_, so I noticed the effect in time." Effect which, of course, the doctor had already warned him about, but he had kind of forgotten it...

Bodie sat quiet for a moment. "When were you prescribed those?"

"When I was discharged from the hospital after Martin pushed me down those stairs, it took quite a while before my left shoulder stopped hurting."

As mr Cowley had hoped, that brought a small smirk in the agent's face.

"Well there was nothing wrong with your right shoulder when you threw and smashed that bottle of malt we brought you."

The Scot sighed. "That was a grave accident indeed. And the chiding I was given by the head nurse was most impressive. I sometimes suspect certain nurses are chosen by qualities that are quite opposite to _nursing_. But joking aside, Bodie, be very careful with those pills. Are they giving you any other medication now?"

"No, but something happened yesterday at the physio, which has caused the shoulder hurt like hell again, and I have to be back at the quacks tomorrow morning, they will check if there's some new injury."

Bodie didn't meet his superior's gaze, and that made the old man frown. Och, that was the last thing the agent needed right now, a setback. And the last thing the Controller needed. He pursed his lips. "Well, in that case, it is for the best that I put that bottle away from your sight." As he did, and Bodie was so stunned he didn't get a word from his mouth when the old Scot, after putting the bottle into the bar, calmly locked the door and put the key into his own pocket. Bodie's bar was so well made that the man certainly would not want to cause it damage, and he probably would not want to go to a pub with an arm in a sling. "It's more than understandable that you would rather have more than a wee dram, laddie, but I warmly recommend you to stick to those painkillers only. I do not wish to hear you have been found unconscious in your bathroom, or worse. There is enough trouble already." He returned to his seat and faced Bodie. "I tried to get in touch with you already in the afternoon." He did manage to keep accusation out from his voice.

"I was out in the park for a few hours. Needed fresh air." It was clear the agent was pouting, but he did it remarkably quietly this time. Which, also, was alarming.

"Fresh air does always good." The Controller saw Bodie try to shrug, but that brought a small grimace of pain to the man's face. "Anyway, I think you would benefit even more of something else. As would I." He finally opened the buttons of his long coat and sighed. Damned Minister, the man sometimes was a walking migraine. Maybe he should too have a walk outside after he'd been home and fed Churchill. Or take the kitty to the back garden for a while, he still was so young he wouldn't dare to wander far from him. Aye, he definitely needed some oxygen after the toxic fumes of politics he had needed to endure.

"Betty said you wanted to talk with me about something." Bodie managed to get in between. Not that he appeared interested in any way, he probably only wanted to know if there had been a valid reason for not opening that bottle before the Controller's appearance.

"Aye. Something important, and quite urgent. Have you talked with Doyle today?" The agent shook his head.

Hm. He had hoped Doyle had managed to do some ground work. But of course not, that would have been too much to ask from the damned Lady Fortuna who seemed to have turned her fat back end at CI5. "Right. Prick your ears now, Bodie, because I have a need of extra set of brains." The Controller quickly debriefed his agent about the current lurking catastrophy in CI5.

"And now, Bodie, I am in need of someone to give basic training about our methods to new people. In _desperate_ need." The Scot did not need to exaggerate, as that was a fact. "Not to mention urgent. We went through all our current cases before I left the HQ, and there is absolutely none we can leave out or hand over at the moment. So we simply need fresh feet, and muscle, to the field. Of course we will get help from uniforms for arrests, busts et cetera, but it is not a sustainable solution. It is possible that we get a decently useful man from the Drug-squad if they allow him to leave, but you know how it is, a regular copper, no matter what the branch, does need some tutoring to really be for our use. And considering the circumstances, I thought, and Doyle agreed with me, that you are the perfect person for that purpose."

Now there was life in those deep blue eyes. Suspicion and... fear? "Ray? What the hell has Ray to do with this?"

"He will help by choosing some trainees from Bramshill, where they have today done a preliminary draft after my request. Of course, as you both are on sick-leave, I do not have any official authority to order either one of you to this, but Doyle readily volunteered when I talked with him today, he understood the situation and wanted to help, and I think he also could use some work for his brain. I think that he would have readily volunteered as a tutor also, if only he would be able to move. But if you agree to lend the Squad a hand in form of time, your experience, and some commitment for... a few weeks maybe, until we start to get others back to the field, Doyle said he also gives his ideas and wit to your use."

Bodie seemed to withdraw into himself, block himself out. Ach, that was out of the question. The Scot _wanted_ him involved. For more reasons than one. But he wouldn't be who he was, if he did not have his ability to adapt, to change tactics. So, he gave a deep sigh. "And, Bodie, as a matter of fact, I do feel that also Doyle needs that little... assignment. It isn't only that we lack men, or that I need assistance, but talking with Doyle today I realised how... deeply useless he has felt himself." _As have you, lad. Useless, broken, failed... worthless. _But that was something he would never ever let out from his mouth. Not to Bodie. "I realised how much he needs the feeling of being _involved_. How much he needs to think about something else than his own situation. And to you Bodie, to you as his partner, I can tell, that I need to know, I need to find out, if Doyle has a future in CI5 in case his injury prevents him from returning to the field duty."

Now, that caused a reaction. The stiffness of shoulders, tightening lips... and finally, those blue, squinted eyes, meeting his.

"Aye, Bodie." The Scot almost whispered, yet he knew that not one word, one syllable was missed by the quiet man in front of him. "I haven't wanted to talk about this before as it has felt too early, too early for you both, but I think it's time. So I place you a question. A very simple question, but I want you to think before you answer, and think carefully." Now the agent was frowning.

"Are you willing to help your partner to return to CI5?"


	17. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

"I am too old for this."

The kitten gave a questioning little meow.

"Too old and too bloody... _whatever_." The tabby, now _very small_ but no more _tiny_, looked up, and twitched his tail. "And I will definitely not take any misbehaving from you right now, so you do as you're told and stay close."

Well, as usual the feline had his own ideas about that, and after a minute, he had vanished into the dark jungle of the small garden.

_Just like those two_, the old Scot mused, irritated. _Give them clear instructions and some specified space, and you'll find them vanishing into some thin air with their tails up. _"Churchill?" Och, there he was, peeking from behind a small rosebush. "Right then, carry on, laddie." He himself sat on the small bench, where he sometimes, if the weather was fine, spent a quiet moment.

Bodie. _Damned Bodie_.

For once, he had not been able to penetrate the man's surface. For bloody once, he hadn't been able to either lure, or blackmail the man into a decision. Into _any_ decision. Bodie had listened to him, had listened to all he said about Doyle, but still, he had not decided.

Damn it.

But, the man was not well. Even Doyle had said Bodie had been quiet the latest visits. And if there really had happened a setback regarding the shoulder, that probably had made things worse. Yet, the Controller had been dead certain that worry over Doyle would have drawn the dark-haired agent into this assignment.

But no. Bodie had only sat still, staring at the painkillers, quiet, and after a lengthy silence, said quietly he might give it some thought one of these days. And that had been it.

All right.

If the man was not able to decide, if the man was not willing, and the man – _dammit!_ - was not strictly under his command, he had neither right nor power to order him.

Mr Cowley was able to understand and accept _that_. But there were two other things he was not able to understand.

Why didn't Bodie take the catch immediately? He cared about Doyle, hell, Doyle was probably the only human being the mercenary really and truly cared about. And Doyle cared about Bodie, that was clear. What was the cause of that darkness behind the blue eyes? Fear? Remorse? Fatigue? Had those eyes seen too much, too often, too deep? Too deep inside? Inside himself?

And then there was the other question; a question for himself.

_What _should he care?

No. Re-phrase.

_Why_ should he care?

Still wrong phrasing.

Why _did_ he care?

Aye.

Those two had been an occasional thorn in his flesh ever since they joined in. Ever since he took them in. And he had let them know that, aye, loud and clear, when ever the two had disobeyed, badgered, challenged him. How many times had that happened? Dozens, certainly. No, maybe hundreds, during all these years. But not only had he kept them, but also they had stayed. Through thick and thin, over and over again. Between all kinds of rocks and hard places.

Those two damned incorrigible hecklers.

And where was the third pain? There was nothing to be seen in the beam of the torch.

"Kitty kitty kitty, Churchill, kitty kitty..." A stubborn silence. The man sighed. What was that little devil up to? But he found out soon enough, when commenced furious yapping from one of the neighbouring gardens. In two minutes the rescue-mission was accomplished, hissing and shaking culprit had reached the biped Scot's shoulder and neck, and mrs Dunne's mean and fat little Dachshund had been sent yelping back towards its own garden by a precise kick.

"How many pairs of pants do you mean to destroy with those nails of yours, eh?" the old man growled, angry and irritated. "And once I get to clean the scrapes you made in my leg, I give you a shaking!" Well, shaking had the little lad got already, and now he pushed against the man's neck as he approached his door.

"It would have served you right, if that mean little bitch had bitten your stubborn bottom. Did she get at you, eh? Did she? I can't understand why I bother with you, you miserable little pest!" After a quick check in the warmth of his kitchen, to see that the kitten had not suffered injuries in the teeth of the Dachshund, and the inevitable tongue-lashing while doing the said examination which ended in purring and stroking, the Scot watched the kitten start grooming himself, and in a moment, sneak towards the back door, meowing suggestively. Ach, the little daredevil minx! Unwillingly, the man started to smile. "You are just as bad as those two, you know that?"

And if they were something else than what they were, would he respect them even half as much as he did?

Presumably not.

Would he like them?

Well...

Would he care?

No.

They were the best of his men.

They were _his_ men.

For better and for worse.

And in bloody sickness and in health.

Twenty minutes later there was a buzz at Bodie's door.


	18. Chapter 49

EPILOGUE

A man was standing on a winding road, looking down a slope into a river, huddled inside a warm mountain jacket as winter breeze pushed small needles into his skin. He stood there for a long while, in his thoughts and memories.

He would remember that one morning the rest of his life, he thought. Waking up with a heavy head, the tiredness, the half-drugged existence, those he had already been used to. But there were the eyes of his partner. Blue eyes full of shame, full of pain, full of fear. Oh yeah, and he would have seen exactly the same if there had been a mirror.

No-one would ever hear what they had talked about. Or, he might sometimes tell about what he himself had said, but never what the other one had confided him with. Never bloody ever. As that morning, those hours, they ripped apart much of what the two men had thought they knew about each other, and crushed it. The glimpses they had got in Scotland, those had been nothing compared with what they, for the first time ever, allowed each other see.

He didn't know what had been harder, to finally let the true tears break out, or to make them stop running. To admit the weakness, or to accept the offered arm, as without strength as that was too.

Women certainly had it easier. They were allowed to cry and be weak. Maybe that's why women could deal with anything.

The man hemmed. That was one bloody blasphemous idea.

But that morning had been the turning-point.

Martha had been wonderful. She had come in at an awkward moment, but had arranged them to be left in relative peace until they both had managed to take a deep breath. And then – what maybe told more than anything else about their characters – they had turned to teasing and badgering, until the next tears they wiped were that of laughter.

Yeah.

What a day it had been. It had left him – them – exhausted and embarrassed. But at some point his partner had thumped his knee lightly, and said it was time to lift the lazy arse and start working. And so they had done. The next time Martha had come in, they had already covered the bed with files, and were discussing – even heatedly – about the things the newbies, or the _duct-tape_, should learn, to be of any use for the Squad. Then they had parted as they had both their respective doctor's appointments and physio-sessions. And also, both had been scheduled to have their own respective talks with the old Scot. The Controller. The Controller, who, Bodie had told him, had the previous evening taken Bodie by his throat and pinned the agent against the wall, without laying a finger on the man, until the old interrogator had finally managed to pierce the numbness Bodie had tried to create to protect himself.

They had faced the grim reality of _one injury too many_, yeah, both of them, but they had faced that side by side, sitting in front of their superior, who, in some strange way, had managed to turn this catastrophy, this crisis, into a challenge and an opportunity. _But what if I won't get on my feet? _Ray had been worried. _Och you will, Doyle, I have no doubt about that. Whether you will be able to return to the field, that is something only time will tell, or if your shoulder allows your return, Bodie._ The old man had leaned forward. _My plan has been built on the worst case scenario, that your days at the field in any duties are completely numbered. Anything better than that is a bonus. But I am not willing to allow your experience as agents be let down the sewer, everything that CI5 has invested in you._ The man had given them thoughtful, piercing glares. _Aye, I am sure there will be days when you hate me for this, lads. As there will be days I also heavily regret my decision, if you decide to accept this... long-term assignment. But I am not in the habit of wasting my, or anybody else's time, to lost causes, and you should know me well enough to be able to trust that. _

The eyes of the old man had been very bright. And both Ray's and Bodie's gazes had been thoughtful when they had locked, because what the old man had suggested to them was something so vast, so unexpected, so frightening... so alluring. They had seen mr Cowley lean back, as if content. _Think about it, lads, talk about it. It will not be easy, but it will not be impossible either. _

Those eyes. Cold, demanding, and at the same time, warm.

_I know that you are able, lads. But if you are __**willing**__... that is up to you, and you only. You are men of action, men of the field... Aye, I do not know if you find the will._ The old Scot had sighed. _But I wish you did. _

A few days later Ray Doyle had started to learn to walk. They both had, he and Bodie, in a manner of speech, as the accident had broken something, something that they could not – or maybe even would not - return to. And as much as they worked to regain their strength and mobility, they also tried to regain the basic trust in their bodies and minds. There had been bad days and worse days, pains, frustration, disappointments, yet at some point both men had realised that the worse days were not quite as bad as they had been a while ago, and the bad days had turned into tolerable, and in the end, Ray had been allowed out, and as he had promised, he had walked out from the building on his own two feet before Martha's last day at work, and into Bodie's car; but first Ray had only leaned in the car and then walked back to astonished and fluttered Martha, bringing a huge bunch or roses to his _one-woman-back-up-team, _like he had called the seasoned nurse who had used with him her every knack from flattery and reassurance, through bribery and extortion, to threats; in order to make the man stick to the program.

But then it had started for real; the real life outside the protective walls; for weeks both agents complained they had never been as tired as they were then, working with the rehabilitation as well as facing the true demands of the project they had accepted from the Controller; _educating_ themselves.

Then one day, when they had gone to the HQ as requested, and entered their shared office, they had found a blonde man sitting leisurely in Bodie's chair, his feet on the desk.

"Hullo boys, long time no see, eh? Get changed. I've talked with the physios of you both. Today evaluation, and starting from next Monday, you have my undivided attention for the next two weeks." Both agents had sighed. "And believe me, we are going to spend _quality time _together." Trainer Macklin's little smile had made both men grimace.

As had made the date marked in the calendars of both agents; the date now past, for Ray's second operation six months after the first. For a few days he – no, _they_ - had faced again all the prospects of things going wrong. But Ray had walked in the hospital door; and he had also, in due time, walked out that door. And at that door had been waiting for him a little lady, not wearing a uniform any longer, who had given him a tight squeeze, and handed him a small bottle of champagne. Champange, which they actually had shared in Bodie's apartment, the three of them, while the fourth member of the company had performed for them, dashing around on his lanky legs, throwing and grabbing his squeaky toy before stretching himself around Ray's neck and purring like a motor.

A gust of wind brushed the still curly, yet now more neatly trimmed hair of the man when he brought his eyes back to the present day and saw again the landscape around him. The river down below, the bushes, the hills, the slope where it still was easy to see the marks of the landslide. He remembered the cold, and the fear, and for a moment he allowed himself to be choked by them, let them flush through him, before forcing them out from his system.

That was the one reason why he had wanted to return; to leave it all behind.

He only needed to turn his head a little, to see his partner stand by his side, looking down, musing, before lifting his gaze. Then the two looked at each other, and started to walk, without saying a word, following the road, looking down, step by step, there but above it all, until they reached the point where the road curved away from the river.

There they stopped, trying to decide which way to follow, and in a car waited patiently the young Scot who had been following them, intrigued, trying to guess what was going on in the minds of the two quiet men when they followed the route of the river, as he too had done many times, in awe of the stamina and determination that had been needed from both agents, to survive their ordeal.

Ray in his mountain jacket was the first to open his mouth.

"To hell with it. Let's go in and help Duncan's Gramp with the dinner. Besides it's dark soon. Mulled wine and rockets, that's what we need for the New Year, eh mate? New Year, new tricks..."

Bodie gave his mate his flashy grin, brighter than Ray had seen it in months, before turning towards the car and throwing himself to the back seat. "Take the short road, eh, Jeeves?"

The sudden happiness and joy of life, radiating from these two men, felt overwhelming, and the young PC could only grin. "Aye aye, sir!"

Those two were in a league of their own.


End file.
